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LECTURES 



ON THE 



PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, 



THE LIFE AND TIMES 



JOHN B TIN TAN, 



BY 



REV. GEORGE B. CHEEVER. 



NEW-YORK: 

WILEY AND PUTNAM. 

18 44. 



'-9 . 



ipn/*d St* /fU^ L^UrA, t0f/ ££ J*?^/&t5L 







Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1844, 

BY WILLIAM OSBORN, 

In the Clerk's office of the District Court of the Southern District of New- York. 



1 



CONTENTS. 



Page. 

BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES, - 1 

BUNYAN'S TEMPTATIONS, 41 

BUNYAN'S EXAMINATION, ------- 89 

BUNYAN IN PRISON, ...... 129 

PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS, IN BUNYAN AND THE 

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS, -- = -.- 173 

THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND, 217 

CHRISTIAN IN THE HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER, - 249 

CHRISTIAN ON THE HILL DIFFICULTY, - - -"""" 277 
CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH APOLLYON IN THE VALLEY OF 

HUMHJATION, 299 

CHRISTIAN IN THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH, 331 
CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL IN VANITY FAIR, - - 363 
DOUBTING CASTLE AND GIANT DESPAIR, 391 
THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS, AND ENCHANTED GROUND, 
WITH THE CHARACTERS OF IGNORANCE AND LITTLE- 
FAITH, - - 419 

THE LAND BEULAH AND THE RIVER OF DEATH, - 451 

CHRISTIANA, MERCY, AND THE CHILDREN, 483 



PREFACE 



This work attempts to trace the footsteps of a great circumnavi- 
gator in the Divine Life, somewhat as an open boat might follow 
in the wake of the ships of Columbus into a New World. And 
yet it is not new, but as old as the Grace of God in the heart of 
sinful man ; and now, so many have crossed the sea, and prepared 
charts and maps of their passage for the use of others, that there 
is scarcely a league, over which some compass has not been 
drawn, or into which some fathoming line has not been let down ; 
though there is scenery still hidden, and there are depths never 
yet sounded, nor ever will be, inasmuch as the grace of God in 
the heart of man is unfathomable ; and in sailing over this ocean, 
we can often do no more than cry out with the Apostle Paul, O 
the depths ! There is always much that is peculiar with every 
individual mind in crossing this sea ; and likewise in following the 
traces of so experienced and wise a navigator as Bunyan, every 
individual will find something new to remark upon ; so that these 
lectures, though on an old subject, will not necessarily be found 
common-place, or monotonous, or superfluous. 

It ought probably to be mentioned that a former essay by the 
author, printed in the North American Review, has been, in one 
or two of these lectures, worked up anew. A greater space also 
is occupied by that division of the work on the life and times of 
Bunyan, than was originally contemplated ; but in the Providence 
of God, Bunyan himself, in his own lifetime, furnished as much 
matter for profitable meditation and instruction, as his own Pil- 
grim, in his beautiful Allegory. Of course the first division is 



IV PREFACE. 

more particularly biographical and historical ; the second more 
meditative and expository. 

The world of Christian Pilgrims may in general be divided into 
two classes, the cheerful and the depressed ; those who have joy 
in the Lord, and those whose joy is overborne and kept down by 
cares and doubts, unbelief and many sins, fallings by the way and 
broodings over them. Indeed, there is a sad want, in our present 
christian experience, of that joy of the Lord, which is our 
strength ; and to give the reasons for this would by itself require 
a volume. There must be more of this joy, and it must be more 
habitual, if the church of Christ would be strong to convert the 
world, would be prepared to teach transgressors the way of the 
Lord, so that sinners may be converted unto him ; for that is the 
meaning of the Psalmist, taking what is individual, and applying 
it, as we must, to the church universal, as the source of her 
power. 

The importance of this joy for the strength of the church is 
manifest not only from the fifty-first Psalm, but from those re- 
markable words of our Blessed Lord to his disciples, These things 
have I spoken unto you, that my joy might remain in you, and 
that your joy might be full. The Saviour's own joy ! What a 
depth of blissful meaning is contained in these words, as the por- 
tion of his people ! It is not a doubting, weak, depressed piety, 
that is here recognized. 

And yet there is provision in the same gospel for those who do 
not attain to this joy. There is mention made of those, whose 
hands hang down, and of the feeble knees ; and the arrangements 
made in the gospel for the sustaining and comforting of such do 
show that there will always continue to be, more or less, in the 
christian race, and in the christian church, hands that hang down 
and feeble knees. 

Now it is at once a proof of the wisdom of the delineations of 
christian character in the Pilgrim's Progress, and a source of the 
usefulness of that book to all classes, that it is not a picture of ab- 



PREFACE. V 

stract perfections, nor dra m from any one extreme or exclusive 
point of view. It recognizes both divisions of the christian world, 
of which we have spoken. Nay, it recognizes them at different 
times in the different experience of the same persons, which is in 
accordance with the examples of Scripture. For the same great 
saint who says, I have rejoiced in the way of thy testimonies, and, 
I will delight myself in thy statutes, says also, a few verses after- 
wards, My soul cleaveth unto the dust, and, My soul melteth for 
heaviness. 

There is in general more of this cleaving unto the dust, than of 
this rejoicing ; but it is not always to be concluded, because the 
soul thus seems bound up in dust and heaviness, that therefore 
there is nothing of the christian life in it. The straight lines of 
light and joy in the gospel falling into such a dense medium of 
cares and anxieties in this world, are refracted and broken, so to 
speak, and the reflection of the gospel comes from troubled waters, 
waters ruffled and stirred, and not from still lakes, where halcyon 
birds of calm sit brooding on the surface. 

The christian life is represented as a race, a work, a labor, a 
conflict, a warfare. It needs a strong, constant, unwavering pur- 
pose, along with the constant, ever present, omnipotent grace of 
God. God is one all in all. Christ's strength must be made per- 
fect in our weakness. So David says, I will run in the way of 
thy commandments when thou shalt enlarge my heart. Here is 
the purpose, I will run ; here is the way, thy commandments ; 
here is the soul's dependence, when thou shalt enlarge my heart ; 
and here is the source of power, the grace of God in the heart, in 
the deep heart. To this Paul answers, Work out your own salva- 
tion with fear and trembling, for it is God that worketh in you both 
to will and to do. Blessed harmony of God's working and man's 
working, of God's grace and man's obedience ! 

The Pilgrim's Progress is constructed throughout on this divine 
harmony, never losing sight of either side of the arrangement. So 
must our individual progress through life, in grace, be of the same 



VI PREFACE. 

divine harmony, a perpetual strife on our part, and God striving to 
us. So says Paul of this progress in his own person, Whereunin 
I also labor, striving according to his working, which worketh in 
me mightily. When these two things are kept together, then 
there is joy, joy even amidst great trials and discouragements. 
Because we are cast down, it is not necessary to be destroyed ; 
and the same Apostle who says, Rejoice in the Lord alway, says 
also, with Barnabas, who was the son of consolation, That we 
must through much tribulation enter into the kingdom of God. 

In all things we are brought to Christ, and thrown upon him ; 
and this is the sweet voice of the Pilgrim's Progress, as of the gos- 
pel, Come unto me. all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I 
will give you rest. One consolation amidst our distresses is this, 
that we have not an High Priest who cannot be touched with the 
feeling of our infirmities, but was in all points tempted like as we 
are, yet without sin. Let us therefore come boldly unto the 
throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help 
in time of need. x\nd unto Him that is able to keep us from fall- 
ing, and to present us faultless before the presence of his glory 
with exceeding joy, to the only wise God our Saviour, be glory 
and majesty, dominion and power, both now and ever. Amen. 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES 



Historical sketch of the period. — Bunyan's contemporaries. — His boyhood and con- 
victions of sin. — The Providence and Grace of God illustrated in his life and 
conversion. — The characters he met with. — His Evangelist. — His spiritual and 
intellectual discipline. — Necessity of experimental piety, for a full appreciation 
and understanding of the Pilgrim's Progress. 



If a man were to look about the world, or over 
all the world's history, for that one of his race, in 
whose life there should be found the completest 
illustration of the providence and grace of God, he 
could hardly fix upon a more perfect instance, than 
that of John Bunyan. The detailed biography of 
this man I shall not attempt to present, in so short 
a sketch as that to which I must of necessity con- 
fine myself. But there are points in his life, 
where the Divine Providence is unfolded so glori- 
ously, and junctures where the Divine grace comes 
out so clearly and so brightly, that nothing could 
be more simple, beautiful, and deeply interesting, 
than their illustration. On some of these points I 
shall dwell, premising, in order to a right view of 
them, a rapid but important glance at the age in 
which he lived. 

It was an age of great revolutions, great excite- 
ment, great genius, great talent; great extremes 

1 



Z BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

both in good and evil; great piety and great wick- 
edness; great freedom and great tyranny and 
oppression. Under Cromwell there was great 
liberty and prosperity ; under the Charleses there 
was great oppression and disgrace. Bunyan's life, 
continuing from 1628 to 1688, embraces the most 
revolutionary and stirring period in English history. 
There pass before the mind within this period the 
oppressive reign of Charles First ; the characters of 
Laud and Strafford ; the star chamber, and the king's 
tyrannical men, courts, and measures ; the noble de- 
fence of liberty in the house of Commons ; Hampden 
and Pym ; the war between the King and Parliament ; 
the king's defeat, and death upon the scaffold ; the 
glorious protectorate of Cromwell, few years, but 
grand and prosperous, a freedom and prosperity 
united, such as England had never known ; then 
comes the hasty, unconditional restoration of a 
Prince who cared for nothing but his own pleasure, 
the dissolute, tyrannical reign of Charles Second, one 
of the most promising, lying, unprincipled, worth- 
less, selfish, corrupted and corrupting kings that 
ever sat upon the throne of England; in the terribly 
severe language of the Edinburgh Review, a king, 
"who superseded the reign of the saints by the 
reign of strumpets; who was crowned in his youth 
with the Covenant in his hand, and died with the 
Host sticking in his throat, after a life spent in 
dawdling suspense between Hobbism and Popery" ; 
a king and a reign, of which one of the grand climac- 
terics in wickedness embraced the royal murders of 
the noble patriots Russell and Algernon Sydney; 
immortal be their names, and honored ever be 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. "3 

their memories ; a rei^n the very beginning of 
of which, threw John Bunyan into prison, and pro- 
duced a Bartholomew's day to thousands of the 
conscientious ministers of the Church of England. 

The king's reign from the time of the restoration, 
began in contempt of all religion, and continued in 
debauchery and drunkenness. Even those persons 
who may have taken their views of the history of 
this period simply from the pages of Hume, may, 
if they will look narrowly, gather so much as this. 
"Agreeable to the present prosperity of public af- 
fairs," says Hume, "was the universal joy and fes- 
tivity diffused throughout, the nation. The melan- 
choly austerity of the fanatics fell into discredit, 
together with their principles. The royalists, who 
had ever affected a contrary disposition, found in 
their recent success new motives for mirth and gay- 
ety ; and it now belonged to them to give repute and 
fashion to their manners. From past experience it 
had sufficiently appeared that gravity was very dis- 
tinct from wisdom, formality from virtue, and hy- 
pocrisy from religion. The king himself, who bore 
a strong propensity to pleasure, served, by his pow- 
erful and engaging example, to banish those sour 
and malignant humors, which had hitherto engen- 
dered such confusion. And though the just bounds 
were undoubtedly passed, when once returned from 
their former extreme, yet was the public happy in 
exchanging vices, pernicious to society, for disor- 
ders, hurtful chiefly to the individuals themselves 
who were guilty of them." 

This means simply that the nation, under the ex- 
ample of the king and the royalists, having thrown 



4 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

off the vices and vicious restraints of gravity, for- 
mality and hypocrisy, so generally pernicious to 
society, became almost entirely abandoned to the 
more individual "disorders" of profligacy and sen- 
sual licentiousness. They were happy in ex- 
changing "those sour and malignant humors" for 
the more luscious and generous qualities of sin. 
The restoration, says Bishop Burnet, brought with 
it the throwing off the very professions of virtue and 
piety; and all ended in entertainments and drunk- 
enness, which overran the three kingdoms. 

As the reign began so it continued ; and it was a 
period, when just such men, as God had been pre- 
paring in the case of Bunyan, were most needed; just 
such men also, as he had ready in Baxter, Owen, 
Howe, and a multitude of others, perhaps quite 
equal in piety, though not so distinguished as these. 
So was fulfilled the great principle, that when the 
Enemy cometh in like a flood, then the Spirit of 
the Lord shall lift up a standard against him. 

As to the measures of this reign for the destruc- 
tion of religious liberty, with which more especially 
we are now concerned, it opened with what is called 
the Corporation Act, by which, in defiance of all the 
king's previous stipulations, all persons, whose reli- 
gious principles constrained them conscientiously 
to refuse conformity to the established Episcopal 
Church, were at once expelled and excluded from 
every branch of the magistracy, and rendered inca- 
pable of serving their country in the meanest civil 
offices. 

Next followed the memorable statute against the 
Society of Friends, by which upwards of four thou- 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 5 

sand persons were cast into prison for their religious 
scruples, and treated with the utmost cruelty, with 
even a savage barbarity. 

In the second year of this reign, 1662, came the 
Act of Uniformity, suppressing by force, all diver- 
sity of religious opinions, imposing the book of 
Common Prayer, and reviving for this purpose the 
whole terrific penal laws of preceding reigns. This 
was to take effect from the feast day of St. Bartho- 
lomew, in 1662; the day of a former well-known 
dreadful massacre of Protestants in Paris, and other 
French cities, the 24th of August, 1572, nearly a hun- 
dred years previous; and' a day, on which more than 
two thousand conscientious ministers were silenced, 
ejected from their pulpits, and thrown into persecu- 
tion and poverty. For these men to preach, or con- 
duct public worship, was made a penal offence 
against the state ; and among these men are such 
names as those of Owen, Bates, Manton, Goodwin, 
Baxter and Howe ; towards whom that very cruelty 
was enacted by the Established Church of England, 
which in the case of the Jewish Church, is said to 
have filled up the measure of its crimes, and pre- 
pared the Jewish people for the Divine vengeance ; 
" forbidding the apostles to speak to the Gentiles, 
that they might be saved." No matter how holy, nor 
how eminently useful the body of the non-conform- 
ing clergy might be ; the act would have passed, 
it has truly been said, though the measure had in- 
volved the eternal misery of half the nation. 

Of this act Hume himself says ; (and I like to 
take authorities, of which it may be said, our ene- 
mies themselves being judges ;) Hume himself says 



6 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

that in it the Church party gladly laid hold of the 
prejudices (the conscientious scruples) which pre- 
vailed among the Presbyterians, " in order to eject 
them from their livings. By the Bill of Uniformity 
it was required that every clergyman should be re- 
ordained, if he had not before received Episcopal 
ordination ; should declare his assent to every thing 
contained in the Book of Common Prayer; should 
take the oath of canonical obedience ; should abjure 
the solemn league and covenant ; and should re- 
nounce the principle of taking arms, on any pre- 
tence whatsoever, against the king. This bill rein- 
stated the Church in the same condition in which it 
stood before the commencement of the civil wars ; 
and as the old persecuting laws of Elizabeth still 
subsisted in their full vigor, and new clauses of a 
like nature were now enacted, all the king's promises 
of toleration and of indulgence to tender consciences, 
were thereby eluded and broken." The same his- 
torian observes that the ecclesiastical form of govern- 
ment, according to the Presbyterian discipline, is 
"more favorable to liberty than to royal power;" and 
hence the readiness of Charles to break all promises 
of tolerance which he had made for the gaining of 
the throne, and to produce an iron uniformity of 
ecclesiastical subjection, in which he might break 
down all the defences raised against regal encroach- 
ments. The spirit of religious liberty always has 
been, and ever must be, the world's greatest safe- 
guard against the oppression of political tyranny. 

Two years after this statute came the memorable 
Conventicle Act, in 1664. It was found that these 
holy clergymen, though banished from their own 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 7 

pulpits, would preach, and that people would hear; 
preach any where, and hear any w T here ; in dens 
and caves of the earth, in barns and private houses, 
so it were but the Gospel. To put a stop to this, 
and to extirpate all public worship, not within the 
walls of Episcopal consecration, the barbarous sta- 
tute of a preceding reign was declared in force, 
which condemned all persons refusing to attend the 
public worship appointed by the State to banish- 
ment: and in case of return, to death without bene- 
fit of clergy. It was then enacted that if any per- 
son should be present at any assembly, conventicle 
or meeting, under color or pretence of any exercise 
of religion in other manner than is allowed by the 
liturgy or practise of the church of England ; or if 
any person shall suffer any such meeting in his 
house, barn, yard, woods, or grounds ; they should, 
for the first and second offence, be thrown into jail 
or fined ; for the third offence, transported for seven 
years, or fined a hundred pounds ; and in case of 
return or escape after such transportation, death, 
without benefit of clergy ! Troops of horse and 
foot were on the alert, to break up such meetings ; 
the ravages and forfeitures for this crime of religious 
worship according to conscience, became very great; 
the jails w T ere filled with prisoners; others were 
transported as convicts-; other whole families emi- 
grated, informers were multiplied, and the defence 
and security of life, liberty and property, in the trial 
by jury, were broken down. 

Next came the Great Plague, in which the non- 
conformist clergy, having before been driven from 
their pulpits by power of persecution, the esta- 



8 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

blished clergy fled from theirs through fear of 
death. But when men fled, who feared death more 
than God, then those men entered their places, 
who feared nothing but God. They came, those 
same persecuted and silenced clergy, when the 
court and parliament had removed to Oxford, and 
the hirelings had fled from their flocks, they came, 
in defiance of law and contagion, and ministered 
the bread of life to pale multitudes, at altars, from 
which they would have been driven with penal 
inflictions in the season of health. But this too 
must be stopped ; and therefore, by this very par- 
liament sitting in Oxford, through fear of the 
plague in London, and to shut out those men, who 
entered with the Gospel where others dared not 
enter, a fresh penal law was enacted, by which, 
unless they would take an oath, that the Earl of 
Southampton declared in parliament no honest 
man could take, all non-conformist ministers 
were banished five miles from any city, town or 
borough, that sent members to Parliament, and five 
miles from any place whatsoever, where they had, 
at any time, in a number of years past, preached. 
This savage act produced, of course, great suffer- 
ing, but it also called into exercise great endurance 
and patience, for Christ's sake. Ministers who 
would not sacrifice their duty to God and their peo- 
ple, and who had to be concealed at a distance, 
sometimes rode thirty or forty miles, to preach to 
their flocks in the night, fleeing again from their 
persecutors before the dawn of day. 

In 1670, the barbarous Conventicle Act was re- 
newed with still greater severity, the trial by jury 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 9 

in case of offenders v\ as destroyed, no warrant to 
be reversed by reason of any default in the form, 
persons to be seized wherever they could be 
found, informers encouraged and rewarded, and 
justices punished, who would not execute the law. 
Archbishop Sheldon addressed a circular letter to 
all the bishops of his province, commanding them 
to take notice of all offenders, and to aid in 
bringing them to punishment. The Bishop of 
Peterborough declared publicly concerning this 
law, that " It hath done its business against all 
fanatics, except the Quakers ; but when the par- 
liament sits again, a stronger law will be made, 
not only to take away their lands and goods, 
but also to sell them for bond-slaves" The ma- 
gistracy became, it has been truly remarked, 
under this law, an encouragement to evil doers, 
and a punishment of those who did well. 

We shall pursue no further the history of poli- 
tical and ecclesiastical cruelty in this arbitrary 
persecuting reign. It is enough to make the very 
name of the union of church and state abhorred 
in the mind of every man, who has a spark of 
generosity or freedom in his composition. Thus 
much was absolutely necessary to illustrate the 
life of Bunyan, and the providence and grace 
of God in the age were God placed him. It was an 
age for the formation and intrepid action of great 
minds ; it was also an age for the development of 
apostolic piety, and endurance of suffering, on the 
part of men and ministers who chose to obey God 
rather than man. If great qualities and great 
capacities of virtue existed, there were great flames 

2 



10 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

to try them ; sharp tools and terrible, to cut and 
polish the hidden jewels of the Saviour, 

Into this age Bunyan was thrown ; a great pearl, 
sunk in deep and troubled waters, out of which 
God's Spirit would, in due time, draw it, and place 
it in a setting, where its glorious lustre should 
attract the admiration of the world. There were 
along with him great men, and men of great piety, 
both in the established church and out of it. He 
was born in the village of Elstow, in the year 1628, 
thirty years after the death of Spenser, twelve 
years after the death of Shakspeare, when Milton 
was in his twentieth year, and three years before 
the birth of Dryden. Bunyan's life and times 
were also Baxter's, Baxter being but thirteen 
years the oldest. Bunyan died in 1688, Milton in 
1674, Baxter in 1691. Owen was another con- 
temporary, 1616 — 1683. John Howe was another, 
born 1630. Phillip Henry was another, born 1631. 
The sweet poet George Herbert should be named as 
another. Matthew Poole was another, born 1623. 
Thomas Goodwin was another, born in 1600. Lord 
Chief Justice Hale was another, born in 1609. Cud- 
worth was born in 1617 ; Henry More was born in 
1614, and died in 1687, a year before the death 
of Bunyan ; Archbishop Usher and Bishop Hall 
both of them died in 1656. Taking these names 
together, you have a striking picture of the great 
richness of the age, both in piety and genius ; 
an ascending series of great minds and good men 
from every rank and party. 

But, for complete originality of genius, Bunyan, 
all things considered, stands foremost amongst 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 11 

them all. The form of his work, the nature of 
the subject, and its creation so completely out of 
the depths of his own soul, unaided by learning 
or art, place it before every other uninspired pro- 
duction. Without the teaching of the Spirit of 
God, the genius of the poet, though he were 
Shakspeare himself, could no more have portrayed 
the inward life of the soul by external images 
and allegories, than a man born blind could paint 
the moon and the stars, the flowers, the forests, 
and the foliage. The education of Bunyan was 
an education for eternity, under the power of the 
Bible and the schooling of the Holy Spirit. This 
is all that the pilgrims in this world really need, 
to make them good, great, powerful. But, set 
aside the Bible, and in Bunyan's education there 
was not one of the elements, out of which the 
genius and learning of his contemporaries gathered 
strength and richness. Baxter was not, any more 
than Bunyan, a child of the universities ; but 
Baxter's intellect was sharpened by a great 
exercise with the schoolmen ; though, even if this 
discipline had been entirely wanting in Baxter's 
development, the result, on the whole, might not 
have been less happy, nay, it might have been 
richer. He would not have preached with less 
fervor, nor less scriptural power and beauty ; and, 
though he might not have been so keen a disputant, 
so subtle a casuist, yet we cannot believe that his 
Saint's Rest would have lost one ray of its heaven- 
ly glory. Neither would the Pilgrim's Progress 
have gained in its beauty or its truth, — it would 
have lost in both, — had Bunyan's soul been steeped 



12 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

in that scholastic discipline, without which, the 
learned Selden used to say, a divine knows nothing 
logically ; just as if the Bible were not the best 
logic in the world ! Bunyan never heard of Tho- 
mas Aquinas, it is true, and he scarcely knew the 
philosophical meaning of the word Logic any more 
than a breathing child, whose pulse beats freely, 
knows the place of its heart, or the movement of 
its lungs ; but Bunyan wrote the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress, for all that ; which, indeed, is itself the sweet 
logic of Celestial Love. 

Bunyan's own life is an illustration of the 
guidance of Divine Providence, as clearly as his 
Pilgrim's Progress is a delineation of the work of 
the Divine Spirit. And perhaps the Providence of 
God, in the education of this man, may be traced 
quite as distinctly in the things from which he 
shut out Bunyan's soul, in order to prepare him for 
his mission, as in the influences by which he sur- 
rounded him. The fountains from which he was 
prevented drinking, though other men drank to the 
full, and almost worshipped the springs, it was bet- 
ter to keep sealed from his soul, if the pure river 
of the water of life was to flow through his pages. 
This peculiarity of his training fitted him to be 
one of the most original writers in the world. 
Almost the only books Bunyan ever read, at least 
before he wrote the Pilgrim's Progress, were the 
Bible, the Book of Martyrs, a copy of Luther on 
Galatians, and two volumes, the Plain Man's Path- 
way to Heaven, and the Practice of Piety, which 
formed the marriage portion of his wife. Fox's 
old Book of Martyrs had, next to the Bible, a great 
and thrilling power over Bunyan's spirit. 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 13 

Bunyan has given an account of his own con- 
version and life, especially of the workings of 
the grace of God, and the guidance of his provi- 
dence, in a little work entitled Grace Abounding 
to the Chief of Sinners. It is powerfully written, 
though with extreme and studied plainness; and 
almost all the material obtained and worked into 
various shapes by his various biographers was 
gained in that book. It is deeply interesting, 
and in following its delineation I shall mark some 
successive particulars, in which the providence and 
grace of God are clearly illustrated, and which, 
on a comparison with the Pilgrim's Progress, make 
it evident at once that in that work Bunyan was 
following his own experience, and that in such 
experience God was so ordering all things as to fit 
Bunyan for that work. 

As you read the Grace Abounding you are ready 
to say at every step, Here is the future author of 
Pilgrim's Progress. It is as if you stood beside 
some great sculptor, and watched every movement 
with his chisel, having had his design described 
to you beforehand, so that at every blow some new 
trait of beauty in the future statue comes clearly 
into view. In the Grace Abounding you see at 
every step the work of the Divine Artist on one 
of the most precious living stones, that ever his 
wisdom and mercy selected in this world to shine 
in the glory of his living temple. Nay, to lay 
aside every figure but that employed by the Holy 
Spirit, you see the refiner's fire, and the crucible, 
and the gold in it, and the Heavenly Refiner 
himself sitting by it, and bending over it, and 



14 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

carefully removing the dross, and tempering the 
heat, and watching and waiting for his own perfect 
image. How beautiful, how sacred, how solemn, 
how interesting, how thrilling the process ! 

But with Bunyan it begins in dreams. Would 
you think it ? Indeed it is no illusion, but the 
very beginning of God's refining work on Bunyan's 
soul. The future dreamer for others was him- 
self visited with dreams, and this is the first point 
which I mark, where the providence and grace of 
God are illustrated together; for it is the first 
point which Bunyan himself has noted down, after 
describing the iniquity of his childhood, " in cursing, 
swearing, lying, and blaspheming the holy name 
of God." " Yea," says he, " so settled and rooted 
was I in these things, that they became as a 
second nature to me ; the which, as I have also 
with soberness considered since, did so offend the 
Lord, that even in my childhood he did scare and 
affrighten me with fearful dreams, and did terrify me 
with fearful visions. For often after I had spent this 
and the other day in sin, I have in my bed been 
greatly afflicted while asleep, with the apprehen- 
sions of devils and wicked spirits, who still, as I 
then thought, labored to draw me away with them, 
of which I never could be rid." If now you would 
have a glimpse of the nature of these terrifying 
dreams, with which Bunyan's sinful childhood was 
visited, you have only to turn to your Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress, and there read the powerful description of 
the last sight shown to Christian in the House of 
the Interpreter. There you have the manner in 
which, even in Bunyan's childish soul, his partly awa- 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 15 

kened conscience, with his vivid imagination, and 
the word and the Spirit of God, wrestled together. 
And now, before leaving this point for another, let 
me call your attention to a text strikingly illustra- 
tive of it, which I marvel that Bunyan himself had 
not used, to which none of his biographers, that I 
am aware of, save one, in dwelling upon this early 
experience, have referred, but which, in the uncon- 
verted state of a man, made afterwards by God's 
grace so signally useful, receives, as well as reflects, 
a very striking illustration. It is that remarkable 
passage in Job, where the Divine Spirit is recount- 
ing the discipline of God with his creatures for the 
salvation of their souls. " For God speaketh once, 
yea twice, yet man perceiveth it not. In a dream, 
in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon 
men, in slumberings upon the bed, then he openeth 
the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction ; that 
he may withdraw man from his purpose, and hide 
pride from man." You may find this in the thirty- 
third chapter, and the whole is worthy of studying. 
Bunyan not only in his childhood, but all his life, 
was made the subject of such discipline. 

The next point which I shall select as an illustra- 
tion of Divine Providence in Bunyan's life, sets us 
down with him in the parliamentary army, as a sol- 
dier. It was probably in 1645, at the siege of 
Leicester. He was drawn to be one of the besie- 
gers ; but when he was just ready to go upon this 
perilous service, one of the company desired to go 
in his room; "to which," says Bunyan, "when I 
had consented, he took my place ; and coming to 
the siege, as he stood sentinel, he was shot in the 



16 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

head with a musket bullet, and died." At this 
time he was seventeen years of age. " Here," says 
Bunyan, " were judgments and mercy, but neither 
of them did awaken my soul to righteousness ; where- 
fore I sinned still, and grew more and more rebel- 
lious against God, and careless of my own salva- 
tion." The providence of God in Bunyan's case 
was wonderfully similar to the instances recorded in 
the early life of John Newton ; so were the reck- 
lessness and habits of profaneness, in which, not- 
withstanding these remarkable interpositions, he 
still persisted. 

The next important point is Bunyan's marriage, 
at the time of which event he could not have been 
more than nineteen years of age. Upon this point 
we would not lay so much stress as to say with 
some, that it constituted Bunyan's salvation ; 
but it was certainly a great step towards it. Being 
with a woman, who had received from a godly 
father a religious education, it gave him a quiet, 
well-ordered home ; and through the instrumenta- 
lity of two excellent books, which his wife brought to 
him as her only marriage portion, (the Plain Man's 
Pathway to Heaven, and the Practice of Piety,) it 
begat in him some desires to reform his vicious 
life. He and his wife would read together in these 
books, and then young Mrs. Bunyan would bring 
her own recollections of the godly life of her 
father in aid of her husband's better impulses. 
All these things together wrought upon him for an 
external reformation at least, and produced cer- 
tain church-going habits to fall in, as Bunyan 
says, " very eagerly with the religion of the 



BUN Y AN AND HIS TIMES. 17 

times ; to wit, to go tc church twice a day, and 
that too with the foremost ; and there should 
very devoutly both say and sing, as others did, yet 
retaining my wicked life ; but withal I was so 
overrun with the spirit of superstition, that I 
adored, and that with great devotion, even all 
things, both the high place, priest,clerk, vestment- 
service, and what else, belonging to the church ; 
counting all things holy that were therein contained, 
and especially the priest and clerk most happy, 
and without doubt greatly blessed." " This con- 
ceit grew so strong in a little time upon my spirit, 
that, had I but seen a prisst, though never so sordid 
and debauched in his life, I should find my spirit 
fall under him, reverence him, and knit unto him ; 
yea, I thought for the love I did bear unto them, 
supposing they were the ministers of God, i could 
have laid down at their feet, and have been tram- 
pled on by them ; their name, their garb and work 
did so intoxicate and bewitch me." 

This stage in Bunyan's experience is exceedingly 
curious and instructive ; his mind seems to have 
been in that state of bondage, which we call priest- 
ridden ; heartily as he afterwards hated the pope, 
it would not have taken much, at this time, to have 
carried him completely over to Rome. Had he lived in 
our day, with such an experience, he would assured- 
ly have made what some might be disposed to call 
a thorough-going Puseyite. Such was the intoxica- 
ting effect of the glare of religious formalism upon 
his soul, that he adored, and that with great devo- 
tion, all things belonging to the church. Mark the 
phraseology, and see if it does not wonderfully cha- 

3 



18 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

racterize some in our day. He did not adore God, 
but the church, and the things in it, and the forms of 
it, its altar, priest, clerk, vestments. Never was des- 
cribed more to the life that sentimental mixture of su- 
perstition and devotion, which, borrowing something 
from the Spirit, but bewildered and carried into ec- 
stacies by the beauty of religious rites, rests in and 
worships, not the Saviour, but the form. In this state 
of mind, ifBunyan had seen a babe baptized, the holy 
water and the white robe of the priest, and the sign of 
the cross would have made a much deeper impres- 
sion on his soul, than the name of Father, Son and 
Holy Ghost, named upon an immortal spirit. And 
now mark the intimate connection between this 
ecstatic reverence for priests and forms, and the 
belief that church membership, though merely 
by the apostolical succession of birth, constitutes 
salvation. Bunyan, finding in Scripture that the 
Israelites were once the peculiar people of God, 
concluded that if he could be found to have sprang 
from that race, his soul must needs be happy. He 
asked his father about it, but received an answer . 
which destroyed all his hopes, for neither he nor 
his family were of the lineage of Israel. 

It has been conjectured from this passage, that 
Bunyan's family were Gypsies, and that this was 
the reason why he asked his father if they were 
not descended from the Israelites, intending, if he 
found they were so descended, to have considered 
himself as belonging to the only tree church, and 
all the rest of the world as entitled only to God's 
uncovenanted mercies, that is, to remediless per- 
dition. There is no knowing to what extreme this 



BUNYAN AND HIS TI31ES. 19 

state of mind might have carried Bunyan, had it 
lasted. As it was, it gave him an insight into 
the nature, power and danger of formalism, which 
nothing else could have taught him, neither disci- 
pline nor instruction. For all this while, he says, 
I was not sensible of the danger and evil of sin ; 
I was kept from considering that sin would damn 
me, whatsoever religion I followed, unless I was 
found in Christ ; nay, I never thought of him, nor 
whether there w r ere such an one or no." There 
is no telling, I say, what might have been the 
end of this in Bunyan's soul ; but now comes, — 
A fourth point, specidly illustrating the provi- 
dence and grace of God, namely, a sermon which 
Bunyan heard on the holiness of the Sabbath, and 
the evil of breaking it. This ran directly athwart one 
of Bunyan's besetting sins ; for notwithstanding his 
thorough Churchism, he says he took much delight 
in all manner of vice, and did solace himself espe- 
cially therewith on the Sabbath day. He went home 
from this sermon to his dinner with a great load 
upon his conscience, but he soon shook it off, 
and after dinner went out with all zest to his sports 
and gaming. As suddenly as a miracle his con- 
victions returned upon him. That very same day, 
as he was " in the midst of a game of cat, and 
having struck it one blow from the hole, just as 
I was about to strike it the second time a voice 
did suddenly dart from heaven into my soul, 
which said, Wilt thou leave thy sins and go to 
heaven, or have thy sins and go to hell 1 At this 
I was put to an exceeding amaze ; wherefore, 
leaving my cat upon the ground, I looked up to 



20 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

heaven, and was as if I had seen with the eyes of 
my understanding, the Lord Jesus looking down 
upon me, as being very hotly displeased with me, 
and as if he did severely threaten me with some 
grievous punishment for these and other ungodly 
practices." 

" I had no sooner thus conceived in my mind, 
but suddenly this conclusion was fastened upon my 
spirit, (for the former hint did set my sins again before 
my face,) that I had been a great and grievous sin- 
ner, and that it was now too late for me to look after 
heaven; for Christ would not forgive me, nor par- 
don my transgressions. Then I fell to musing on 
this also; and while I was thinking of it, and fearing 
lest it should be so, I felt my heart sink in despair, 
concluding it was too late; and therefore I resolved 
in my mind to go on in sin : for, thought I, if the case 
be thus, my state is surely miserable ; miserable if 
I leave my sins, and but miserable if I follow them ; 
I can but be damned, and if I must be so, I had as 
good be damned for many sins, as damned for few. 
Thus I stood, in the midst of my play, before all 
that then were present ; but yet I told them nothing ; 
but I say, having made this conclusion, I returned 
desperately to my sport again. The good Lord, 
whose mercy is unsearchable, forgive my trans- 
gressions !" 

We should like to see a picture by the hand of a 
master, representing Bunyan in the midst of his 
game of cat, arrested thus suddenly by the fire of 
conviction flashing up in his soul, and thrown into 
this appalling revery in the midst of his wondering 
companions, with the thoughts of his past life, and 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 21 

of the coming judgment, flying through his awa- 
kened mind swifter than the lightning. What a 
scene was this, and how little could Bunyan's merry 
playmates have imagined the commotion in his soul ! 
This rapid crowded moment must have been as a 
year to Bunyan ; it was like those dreams, in which 
the soul lives a life-time in an hour. The words 
that were kindled with such power in Bunyan's con- 
science, that he seemed to hear them, may have 
been spoken to him in the very sermon to which he 
listened in the morning. But returning desperately 
from this dream of conscience to his sport, he shook 
off his convictions, resisted the Holy Ghost, and 
afterwards fell to cursing and swearing, and playing 
the madman at such a fearful rate, that even wicked 
people were astonished at him. 

On one occasion, while he was garnishing his 
discourses, as he termed it, with oaths at the begin- 
ning and the end, an abandoned woman, who stood 
by, severely reproved him, and told his companions 
to quit his conversation, or he would make them as 
bad as himself. This strange and unexpected re- 
proof of the bold blasphemer reached the child's 
heart, that still lived within him. He stood by the 
shop-window, and hung his head in silence ; and 
the language, in which he has told the effect of this 
rebuke upon him, is a most exquisitely beautiful re- 
velation of the simplicity of his nature, yet undes- 
troyed amidst all his evil habits. " While I stood 
there," says he, " I wished with all my heart that I 
might be a little child again, that my father might 
learn me to speak without this wicked way of 
swearing." He thought himself so accustomed to 



22 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

it that he could not leave it off ; but he did from that 
moment. 

Bunyan's character was not unlike that of Peter. 
They seem both to have been profane swearers ; 
for the sudden outbreak of this devil in Peter, at 
the time of his denial of Christ, we take to be the 
reproduction of an early habit, and not a new one, 
assumed for the moment. The change wrought 
by divine grace in the character of Peter, of Bun- 
yan, and of Christian in the Pilgrim's Progress, 
seems marvellously similar. Southey has observed, 
apparently by way of some excuse for the arrest of 
Bunyan by the Establishment, that his office of 
preaching might well be deemed incompatible with 
his calling. Perhaps the poet and historian had 
forgotten, or might never have had his attention 
directed to a passage, which he could have found 
in the Acts of the Apostles, descriptive of the 
early teachers and preachers of Christianity : " And 
because he was of the same craft, he abode with 
them and wrought : for by their occupation they 
were tent-makers." John Bunyan had no more 
need to be ashamed of his temporal, than of his 
spiritual calling ; nor was there any such inconsis- 
tency between the two, as could form the most 
distant shadow of justification to a persecuting 
hierarchy for forbidding him to speak, in the name 
of Christ, to the people. Indeed, had the tinker 
of Bedford been pursuing his humble occupation 
when Matthew, Peter and John were upon earth, 
his was a character of such native elements, that 
he might have been chosen as one of their 
associates in the work of the primitive Gospel 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 23 

ministry. Our Saviom committed the Gospel to 
unlearned, but not to ignorant men ; and Bunyan, 
though illiterate, was not ignorant ; no man is so, 
who, believing with the heart in him who is the 
Light of the World, beholds Spiritual Realities, 
and acts with reference to them. " The fears," 
says Mr. Coleridge in his Aids to. Reflection, "the 
hopes, the remembrances, the anticipations, the in- 
ward and outward experience, the belief and the faith 
of a Christian, form of themselves a philosophy and 
a sum of knowledge, which a life spent in the 
grove of Academus or the painted Porch, could not 
have attained or collected." 

The fifth point which I shall mention as illustra- 
ting both the providence and grace of God in 
preparing Bunyan for his great work, not only in 
converting his soul, and fitting him for the minis- 
try, but in preparing him for the painting of that 
beautiful map of the divine life in the Pilgrim's 
Progress, is the succession of characters he met 
with in his own experience. He worked his way, 
you are well aware, by the Spirit of God, out of 
the ignorance and vice by which he was sur- 
rounded, against much opposition, and with 
very little aid from any of his fellow creatures. 
And yet, all along in his own experience, you meet 
the germ of those characters afterwards so fully 
developed, so vigorously painted, in the progress 
of his pilgrim. His mind was as a magic lantern, 
or camera obscura, through which every form and 
figure that fell upon it was revealed again in glowing 
life and beauty on the canvass. The first that I shall 
name is his own Mr. Legality, who however after- 



24 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

wards, became in Bunyan's words, a devilish ranter, 
giving himself over to all manner of sin and wicked- 
ness. Under the influence of this man, and his plea- 
sant talk of the scriptures and the matter of religion, 
Bunyan, like his own Christian at first setting out, 
went to Mount Sinai. "Wherefore," he says, "I 
fell to some outward reformation, both in my words 
and life, and did set the commandments before me 
for my way to heaven ; which commandments I 
also did strive to keep, and, as I thought, did 
keep them pretty well sometimes, and then I 
should have comfort ; yet now and then should 
break one, and so afflict my conscience; but then 
I should repent, and say I was sorry for it, and 
promised God to do better next time, and then 
got help again ; for then I thought I pleased God 
as well as any man in England. Thus I con- 
tinued about a year; all which time our neigh- 
bors did take me to be a very godly man, a new 
and religious man, and did marvel much to see 
such a great and famous alteration in my life and 
manners, and indeed so it was, though I knew 
not Christ, nor grace, nor faith, nor hope ; for, as 
I have well since seen, had I then died, my state 
had then been most fearful." 

" But I say my neighbors were amazed at this 
my great conversion from prodigious profaneness 
to something like a moral life ; and truly so they 
well might; for this my conversion was as great, 
as for Tom of Bedlam to become a sober man. 
Now therefore they began to praise, to commend, 
and to speak well of me, both to my face and 
behind my back. Now I was, as they said, be- 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 25 

come godly ; now I w*s become a right honest 
man. But oh, when I understood these were their 
words and opinions of me, it pleased me mighty 
well. For though as yet I was nothing but a poor 
painted hypocrite, yet I loved to be talked of as 
one that was truly godly. I was proud of my 
godliness, and indeed I did all I did, either to 
be seen of, or to be well spoken of by men ; and 
thus I continued for about a twelvemonth, or 
more." 

Here he was, according to Mr. Worldly Wise- 
man's directions, under Mount Sinai. But now 
the mountain began to quake and thunder at a 
dreadful rate, and flames came out of it, and 
threatened to consume him. He saw more of 
this afterwards ; " But, poor wretch as I was," he 
says, "I was all this while ignorant of Jesus 
Christ, and going about to establish my own right- 
eousness, and had perished therein, had not God in 
mercy showed me more of my own state by na- 
ture." 

At this very time, one of the happiest impulses 
and most remarkable helps he ever received in his 
spiritual conflicts, came from the conversation of three 
or four godly women sitting at a door in the sun, 
and talking joyfully of the things of God. Bun- 
yan, busy at his occupation, drew near and listened 
like a child to all they said. "Methought," he 
says, " they spake as if joy did make them 
speak. They spake with much pleasantness of 
scripture language, and with such appearance of 
grace in all they said, that they were to me 
as if I had found a new world ; as if they 

4 



26 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

were a people that dwelt alone, and were not 
to be reckoned among their neighbors." These 
holy, happy women, sitting in the sun, may have 
dwelt as a sun-lit picture in Bunyan's imagina- 
tion, till the vision was transfigured into that 
beautiful incident of the Three Shining Ones, 
who met Christian at the Cross, and gave him 
his robe and his roll. There were other inci- 
dents also, and lights in his experience, which 
contributed to form that picture ; for Bunyan's 
was that great quality of genius, as well as of 
piety, which all unconsciously generalizes, and 
then combines into unity, even the most distant 
and separate events and experiences, that have a 
secret affinity, that spring from one principle or 
cause. The conversation of these holy, happy 
women, who evidently possessed an experience, 
such as he knew nothing of, set Bunyan at this time 
to questioning his own condition, and gave him an 
insight into the wickedness of his own heart, and 
the nature of true religion, and produced in him a 
longing desire after its blessedness, such as he never 
before possessed. The state and happiness of these 
poor people presented a lovely vision to him ; and at 
length, after much conflict and inward temptation, 
he was persuaded to break his mind to them, and tell 
them his condition. And here he found sweet sym- 
pathy and guidance, for they were humble, happy, 
kind-hearted Christians, and as soon as they heard 
Bunyan's recital of his troubles, they ran and told 
their pastor, Mr. Gifford, about him, and with how 
much joy, we may well conceive. We may, per- 
haps, be reminded by these holy happy women of 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES 27 

the three heavenly maidens, Prudence, Piety and 
Charity, whose discourse with Christian was so 
rich, who showed him the rarities of the House 
Beautiful, and who placed him for rest in a large 
upper chamber, whose windows opened to the sun- 
rising ; the name of the chamber was Peace, where 
he slept till break of day, and then he awoke and 
sang. 

And now came a new and blessed era in his re- 
ligious life, for this " holy Mr. GifFord" was a re- 
markable man, a man of deep piety and joy, and 
well prepared, by his own spiritual conflicts, to guide 
Bunyan through his. This man took Bunyan under 
his careful charge, and invited him to his house, 
where he could hear him converse with others about 
the dealings of God with their souls. This man 
was, indeed, the original of that delightful portrait 
of Evangelist in the Pilgrim's Progress, a character 
drawn from real life, being such an one as met Bun- 
yan himself on his wandering way from the City of 
Destruction, " and expounded unto him the way of 
God more perfectly." Of this man, Bunyan after- 
wards says, " I sat under the ministry of holy Mr. 
GifFord, whose doctrine, by God's grace, was much 
for my stability. This man made it much his busi- 
ness to deliver the people of God from all those hard 
and unsound tests, that by nature we are prone to. 
He would bid us take special heed that we took not 
up any truth upon trust, as from this or that, or any 
other man or men ; but cry mightily to God that he 
would convince us of the reality thereof, and set us 
down therein, by his own Spirit in the holy word ; 
for, said he, if you do otherwise, when temptation 



28 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

comes, if strongly upon you, you not having received 
them with evidence from heaven, will find you want 
that help and strength now to resist, which once 
you thought you had." This, Bunyan says, was 
" as seasonable to my soul as the former and latter 
rain in their season." The Spirit of God led Bun- 
yan to act according to these directions ; and this 
was, as we shall see, one great cause of his wonder- 
ful power in the scriptures. 

Into this Baptist Church of Christ, under this 
holy pastor, Bunyan was received in the year 1653, 
when about twenty-five years of age. And now 
having traced him to this point, let me say a word 
in regard to that work, the Grace Abounding, from 
which I have drawn my illustrations of Divine Pro- 
vidence and grace in Bunyan's life. I cannot close 
without recommending it to the very careful perusal 
of all, who would have a deeper relish and more 
thorough understanding of the beauties of the Pil- 
grim's Progress. It is a marvellous book, and can- 
not but be a precious book to every soul that reads 
it with a sober, prayerful spirit. Its pages are, next 
to the Pilgrim's Progress, invaluable. It is con- 
densed, severe, and naked in its style, beneath the 
pent fire of Bunyan's feelings, and the pressure of 
his conscience, forbidding him to seek for beauty. 
He says of it himself; "I could have stepped into a 
style much higher than this, in which I have here 
discoursed, and could have adorned all things more 
than I have seemed to do; but I dare not. God 
did not play in tempting of me ; neither did I play 
when the pangs of hell caught hold upon me, where- 
fore I may not play in relating of them ; but be plain 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 29 

and simple, and lay down the thing as it was. He 
that liketh it, let him receive it ; and he that doth 
not, let him produce a better." The very extreme 
plainness of this work, adds to its power ; never 
was the inward life of any being depicted with 
more vehement and burning language ; it is an in- 
tensely interesting description of the workings of a 
mind of the keenest sensibility and most fervid ima- 
gination, convinced of guilt, and fully awake to all 
the dread realities of eternity. 

Sometimes, with all its plainness and solemnity, 
it is almost comic, like Luther's own humor, as 
in the dialogues of Bunyan's soul with the Tempter. 
It possesses, indeed, the elements of a great spiri- 
tual drama. The Faust of Goethe is not to be 
compared with it for truth and depth and vividness. 
There are but few actors, but those how solemn, 
how grand, how awful ! An immortal spirit, 
and its great adversary the devil, are in almost 
unceasing conflict ; but such a stamp of reality, 
such discrimination, such flashing of lights, such 
crossing of the swords of Michael and of Satan, 
such a revelation of the power of divine truth, and 
of the blessed ministration of the Spirit of God, 
you can find nowhere else out of the Bible. It 
is a great battle ; heaven and hell are contending ; 
you have the gleam of armor, the roar of ar- 
tillery, fire and smoke and blood-red vapor, in 
which ofttimes the combatants themselves are lost 
from your view. 

You follow with intense interest the movements 
of Bunyan's soul. You seem to see a lonely 
bark driving across the ocean in a hurricane. By 



30 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

the flashes of the lightning you can just discern 
her through the darkness, plunging and laboring 
fearfully in the midnight tempest, and you think 
that all is lost ; but there again you behold her 
in the quiet sunshine ; or the moon and the stars 
look down upon her, as the wind breathes softly ; 
or in a fresh and favorable gale she flies across the 
flying waters. Now it is clouds and rain and hail 
and rattling thunder, storms coming down as 
sudden, almost, as the lightning ; and now again 
her white sails glitter in heaven's light, like an 
Albatross in the spotless horizon. The last glimpse 
you catch of her, she is gloriously entering the 
harbor, the haven of eternal rest ; yea, you see 
her like a star, that in the morning of eternity dies 
into the light of Heaven. Can there be any thing 
more interesting, than thus to follow the perilous 
course of an immortal soul, from danger to safety, 
from conflict to victory, from temptation to triumph, 
from suffering to blessedness, from the City of De- 
struction to the City of God ! 

Bunyan's genius I had almost said was created 
by his piety ; the fervor and depth of his religious 
feelings formed its most important elements of pow- 
er, and its materials to work upon. His genius also 
pursued a path dictated by his piety, and one that 
no other being in the world ever pursued before him. 
The light that first broke through his darkness was 
light from heaven. It found him, even that being 
who wrote the Pilgrim's Progress, coarse, profane, 
boisterous, and almost brutal. It shone before him, 
and with a single eye he followed it, till his native 
City of Destruction could no longer be seen in the 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 31 

distance, till his moral deformities fell from him, 
and his garments became purity and light. The 
Spirit of God was his teacher; the very discipline 
of his intellect was a spiritual discipline ; the con- 
flicts that his soul sustained with the powers of 
darkness were the very sources of his intellectual 
strength. 

Southey called the experience of this man, in one 
stage of it, a burning and feverish enthusiasm. 
The poet Cowper, in one of his beautiful letters to 
Lady Hesketh, after describing his own feelings, 
remarks, "What I have written would appear like 
enthusiasm to many, for we are apt to give that name 
to every warm affection of the mind in others, which 
we have not experienced in ourselves." It would 
have been the truth, as well as the better philoso- 
phy, if Southey had said that the Spirit of God 
was preparing Bunyan, by that severe discipline, 
to send forth into the world the Pilgrim's Progress. 
And when he was at length prepared for the task, 
then an overruling Providence placed him, through 
the instrumentality of his own enemies, in the prison 
of Bedford to accomplish it. 

Bunyan's imagination was powerful enough, in 
connection with his belief in God's superintending 
Providence, to array his inward trials with a sensible 
shape, and external events with a light reflected 
from his own experience; hopes and fears were 
friends and enemies, acting in concert with them, 
all things he met with in the world were friends or 
enemies likewise, according as they aided or op- 
posed his spiritual life. He acted always under one 
character, the Christian soldier, realizing in his own 



32 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

conflicts and conquests the progress of his own 
Pilgrim. Therefore his book is a perfect reality in 
oneness as a whole, and in every page a book not 
of imagination and shadows, but of realities expe- 
rienced. To those who have never set out on this 
pilgrimage, nor encountered its dangers, it is inte- 
resting, as would be a book powerfully written of 
travels in an unknown romantic land. Regarded 
as a work of original genius simply, without taking 
into view its spiritual meaning, it is a wonder to all, 
and cannot cease to be. Though a book of personi- 
fication and allegory, it enchants the simplest child, 
as powerfully, almost, as the story of Aladdin and 
his lamp, or the adventures of Sindbad the Sailor, 
or the history of Robinson Crusoe himself. It is 
interesting to all who have any taste for poetical 
beauty, in the same manner as Spenser's Fairy 
Queen, or we might mention, especially for the simi- 
lar absorbing interest we take in all that happens 
to the hero, the Odyssey of Homer. 

And yet its interest for the imagination is in reali- 
ty the smallest portion of its power; and it will be 
pleasing to the imagination just in proportion as the 
mind of the reader has been accustomed to inter- 
pret the things of this life by their connection with 
another, and by the light that comes from that world 
to this. A reader who has not formed this habit, nor 
ever felt that he is a stranger and pilgrim in a world 
of temptations and snares, can see but half the beau- 
ty of such poetry as fills this work, because it cannot 
make its appeal to his own experience ; for him there 
is nothing within, that tells more certainly than any 
process of judgment or criticism the truth and sweet- 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 33 

ness of the picture ; there is no reflection of its 
images, nor interpretation of its meaning in his 
own soul. The Christian, the actual pilgrim, reads 
it with another eye. It comes to his heart. It is 
like a painting meant to be exhibited by fire-light ; 
the common reader sees it by day. To the Chris- 
tian it is a glorious transparency ; and the light that 
shines through it, and gives its incidents such life, 
its colors such depth, and the whole scene such a 
surpassing glory, is light from eternity, the meaning 
of heaven. 

I repeat it, therefore, as truth very evident, that the 
true beauty of the allegory in the Pilgrim's Progress 
can be felt only by a religious mind. No one, in- 
deed, can avoid admiring it. The honest nature in 
the characters, their homely truth, the simplicity and 
good sense of the conversations, the beauty of the 
incidents, the sweetness of the scenery through 
which the reader is conducted, the purity of the 
language, 

" The humorous vein, strong sense and simple style, 
To teach the gayest, make the gravest smile," 

all these things to the eye of the severest critic are 
beautiful, and he who loves to read Shakspeare will 
admire them, and on common ground. But such a 
reader, in respect to the veiled beauty of the allego- 
ry, is like a deaf man, to whom you speak of the 
sweetness of musical sounds. Of the faithfulness 
with which Bunyan has depicted the inward trials 
of the Christian conflict, of the depth and power 
of the appeal, which that book makes to the Chris- 
tian's heart, of the accuracy and beauty of the map 

5 



34 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

therein drawn of the dealings of the Spirit of God 
in leading the sinner from the City of Destruction 
to Mount Zion above, he knows and can conceive 
nothing. It is like Milton's daughters reading aloud 
from his Hebrew Bible to the blind poet, while they 
could only pronounce the words, but were ignorant 
of the sacred meaning, nor could divine the nature 
of the inspiration it excited in his soul. Little can 
such a reader see 

" Of all that power of prospect, 
Whereof many thousands tell." 

And I might go on to express, in Wordsworth's de- 
lightful poetry, what is the utmost of the admiration 
excited by a common and not a Christian perusal 
of the Pilgrim's Progress. 

" The western sky did recompense us well 
With Grecian Temple, minaret and bower; 
And in one part a minster with its tower 
Substantially expressed. 

Many a glorious pile 
Did we behold ; fair sights that might repay 
All disappointment. And as such the eye 
Delighted in them ; but we felt the while 
We should forget them. 

The grove, the sky built temple, and the dome, 
Though clad in colors beautiful and pure, 
Find in the heart of man no natural home. 
The immortal mind craves objects that endure." 

Yes ! it is perfectly true that no critical admiration 
of this work, overlooking its immortal meaning, sees 
any thing of its enduring beauty ; to look at it 
aright, we need a portion of the same spiritual faith, 
by which it was inspired, by which only it can be 
explained. 

" Who scoffs these sympathies 
Makes mock of the Divinity within." 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 35 

In the light of eternity this book is as far superior 
to a common poem of this world, or of man's tem- 
poral being and affections, as the soul of man is su- 
perior to the clod it inhabits. Whatever connects 
itself with man's spiritual being, turns his attention 
to spiritual interests and realities, and rouses his 
imagination to take hold on eternity, possesses, the 
mere philosopher would say, a dignity and power, 
with which nothing else can be invested. Religion 
does this. In her range of contemplation there is 
truer and deeper poetry, than in the whole world, 
and all man's being else. Dr. Johnson, in his life 
of Waller, advances the strange opinion that devo- 
tion is not a fit subject for poetry, and in his dog- 
matical way dedicates some space to an inquiry why 
it is so. " Contemplative poetry," he says, "or the 
intercourse between God and the human soul, can- 
not be poetical. Man, admitted to implore the mer- 
cy of his Creator, is already in a higher state, than 
poetry can confer. The essence of poetry is inven- 
tion ; such invention as, by producing something 
unexpected, surprises and delights. The topics of 
devotion are few, and being few, are universally 
known, but few as they are, they can be made no 
more ; they can receive no grace from novelty of 
sentiment, and very little from novelty of expres- 
sion." In this sweeping style Johnson proceeds 
with criticism that, notwithstanding our deference 
for his great intellect, might be shown, on philoso- 
phical grounds, to be as poor, as the assertions are 
authoritative. The very definition of poetry is a 
most degrading one ; and it is the only one to which 
the reasoning will at all apply ; the whole passage 



36 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

shows what a low estimate and false views the " wits" 
of the "Augustan Age" of English literature pos- 
sessed of the greatest of all intellectual subjects. 
It would not have been thought that a being who 
could admire the Pilgrim's Progress as Johnson did, 
would have reasoned in this manner. That book 
itself is a refutation of the sentiment quoted ; so is 
Cowper's Task ; so is Blair's Grave ; so is even 
George Herbert's little volume of Devotional Poetry. 
And how can it be otherwise 1 If man is not a 
mere creature of this world, if his vision is not re- 
stricted to the shadows that have closed around him, 
if he is connected with another, an eternal world, a 
world of higher intelligences, of angels, and arch- 
angels, and beings free from sin; — a world, where 
the Creator of this and of all worlds manifests his 
immediate presence, where the veil of flesh will no 
longer be held before the eye of the soul ; — and if, 
by the revelation which God has made, and by com- 
munion with his Maker through Him who is the 
Way, the Truth and the Life, man becomes ac- 
quainted by inward experience, and by that faith, 
which is the soul's spiritual vision, with the powers 
of that world to come, — then will those far seen 
visions, and all the objects of this world on which 
light from that world falls, and all man's thoughts, 
affections and movements in regard to that world, 
possess an interest, and wear a glory, that makes 
them more appropriately the province of the poeti- 
cal imagination than any other subjects in the uni- 
verse. And the poetry of this world will rise in 
magnificence, in proportion as it borrows or reflects 
the light from that. 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 37 

" From worlds not quickened by the sun 
A portion of the gift is won ; 
An intermingling of Heaven's pomp is spread 
On ground which British shepherds tread !" 

All truth to the humble mind, is poetry: spiritual 
truth is eminently so. We long to witness a better 
understanding of its sublime laws, an acknowledg- 
ment of its great fountain, and a more worthy ap- 
preciation of its nature; to have it felt and ac- 
knowledged that there is poetry in this world, only 
because light from heaven shines upon it, because 
it is full of hieroglyphics, whose meaning points to 
the Eternal World, because man is immortal, and 
this world is only the habitation of his infancy, and 
possesses power to rouse his imagination only in 
proportion as it is invested with moral grandeur by 
his own wonderful destiny, and by the light reflect- 
ed down upon it from the habitation of angels. All 
on earth is shadow, and all in heaven is substance. 
Truly as well as feelingly did Burke exclaim, "What 
shadows we are, and what shadows we pursue !" 
We are encompassed by shadows and flitting appa- 
ritions and semi-transparencies, that wear the simi- 
litude of greatness, only because they are near us, 
and interposed between our vision, and the world 
of eternal reality and light. Man of the world ! 
you know not what poetry is, till you know God, 
and can hail in every created thing the manifesta- 
tion of omnipresent Deity ! Look at the highest 
creations of the art, and behold how they owe their 
power over the human soul to the presence of the 
Idea of that Being, the thought of whom trans- 
figures the movements of the imagination with glo- 
ry, and makes language itself almost divine ! What 



38 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

is it that gives to Coleridge's Hymn before Sunrise 
in the Vale of Chamouney, the deep, unutterable 
sublimity, that awes the soul into worship, and suf- 
fuses the eye with swelling tears 1 What, but the 
thought of Him, to whose praise that stupendous 
mountain, with its sky-pointing peaks and robe of 
silent cataracts, rises like a cloud of incense from the 
earth? — 

" Motionless torrents ! silent cataracts ! 
Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven 
Beneath the keen, full moon ? Who bade the sun 
Clothe you with rainbows ? Who, with living flowers, 
Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? 
God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, 
Answer ! and let the ice-plains echo, God ! 
And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow 
And in their perilous fall, shall thunder, God !" 

There is a spiritual world, and it is a world of light 
and grandeur ! Man's relation to it is the greatest 
theme, that poet or philosopher ever yet exercised 
his powers upon. It broods over him like the day, 
a master o'er a slave, 

" A presence, which is not to be put by !" 

The truths that man is fallen, exposed because of 
sin to the just indignation of God, in peril of his 
soul forever, the object of all the stupendous histo- 
ries and scenes of revelation recorded in the Bible, 
surrounded by dangers, and directed how to avoid 
them, pointed to Heaven, and told what to do that 
he may enter there, and watched in all his course 
with anxiety by heavenly spirits, do, rightly consider- 
ed, throw round every spiritual movement a thrill- 
ing, absorbing interest; an interest, for the indivi- 
dual who knows and feels it personally, too deep 
and awful, till he is in a place of safety, to be the 



BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 39 

subject of poetry. He can no more command at- 
tention to the sublimity of his situation, than Lot, 
hurried by the hand of the angel to Zoar, with the 
storm of fire rushing after him, could have stood to 
admire burning Sodom and Gomorrah. It was not 
amidst his distressing conflicts with the Enemy, 
when it seemed as if his soul would be wrested from 
his body, that a thought of the Pilgrim's Progress 
came in upon the Author's mind. It was when the 
Fiend had spread his dragon wings and fled for- 
ever, and the hand came to him with leaves from the 
Tree of Life, and the presence of God gladdened 
him, and on the mountain summit, light shone 
around him, and a blessed prospect stretched be- 
fore him, with the Celestial City at its close, that 
that sweet vision rose upon his view. To the Pil- 
grim, looking back from a safe resting place, all the 
way is fraught with poetical recollections and asso- 
ciations. His imagination now sees a spiritual life 
full of beauty. In the new light that shines upon 
him, he loves to retrace it again and again, and to 
lift his hands in grateful, speechless wonder at the 
unutterable goodness of the Lord of the Way. 
He is like Jacob, sleeping in the open air of Padan 
Aram, and dreaming of Heaven. Angels of God 
are ascending and descending continually before 
his sight. His are no longer the 

" Blank misgivings of a creature 
Moving about in worlds not realized," 

but the rejoicings of a weary Pilgrim, on whose 
forehead the mark of Heaven has been placed, and 
who sees close at hand his everlasting rest. Once 
within the straight gate, and in the holy confidence 



40 BUNYAN AND HIS TIMES. 

of being a Pilgrim bound from the City of Destruc- 
tion to the City of Immanuel, and all past circum- 
stances of trial or danger, or of unexpected relief 
and security, wears a charmed aspect. Light from 
a better world shines upon them. . Distance softens 
and lends enchantment to the view. Proof from ex- 
perience, as well as warnings from above, show how 
many dangerous places he has passed, how many 
concealed and malignant enemies were here and 
there lying in ambush around him, and in how many 
instances there were hair-breadth escapes from ruin. 
There were the Slough of Despond, the fiery darts 
at the entrance to the Wicket Gate, the hill Diffi- 
culty, that pleasant arbor where he lost his roll of 
assurance, the lions that so terrified him, when in 
the darkness of evening he could not see that they 
were chained ; there was that dark valley of the 
Shadow of Death, and that dread conflict with 
Apollyon before it. There were those fearful days 
and nights passed in the Dungeon of the Castle of 
Giant Despair, and the joyful escape from his terri- 
tories. There were the Land Beulah, and the De- 
lectable Mountains, and the Enchanted Ground, 
and all the glimpses of the Holy City, not dream- 
like, but distinct and full of glory, breaking in upon 
the vision, to last in the savor of them, for many 
days and nights of the blessed pilgrimage! Inge- 
nious Dreamer, who could invest a life of such reali- 
ties with a coloring so full of Heaven! Who can 
wonder at the affectionate sympathy, with which a 
heart like Cowper's was wont to turn to thee ! 

"And e'en in transitory life's late day 
That mingled all his brown with sober gray, 
Revere the man, whose Pilgrim marks the road, 
And guide the Progress of the soul to God." 



BUNYAN'S TEMPTATIONS. 



The Valley of the Shadow of Death in Bunyan' s experience. — Blasphemous sug- 
gestions of Satan. — Bunyan's meeting with Luther. — Conflict of scripture with 
scripture in his mind. — The fiery darts of the Wicked One. — Power of conscience 
by the aid of memory. — Bunyan's interse study of the Bible. — Secret of his 
power in preaching. — Of the purity and simplicity of his style. — Bunyan's call to 
the ministry. — Existence and agency of Satan as the Tempter and Adversary 
of Mankind. 

We come now to a great and important sub- 
ject, Bunyan's temptations. In the midst of deep 
and terrible convictions of sin he received great 
comfort and joy on hearing a sermon preached 
on the love of Christ. He was so taken with 
the love and mercy of God, as he says, that he 
could scarcely contain himself till he got home. 
To use his own graphic language, " I thought 
I could have spoken of his love, and have told 
of his mercy to me, even to the crows that sat 
upon the ploughed lands before me, had they been 
capable to have understood me; wherefore I said 
to my soul with much gladness, Well, I would 
I had a pen and ink here ; I would write this 
down before I go any farther ; for surely I will 
not forget this forty years hence." But now very 
speedily began to be renewed the great power of 
inward temptation upon him. I must tell the 



42 bunyan's temptations. 

warning he had of it, and the beginning of it, 
in his own words. " Now about a week or fort- 
night after this, I was much followed by this scrip- 
ture ; Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath desired to 
have you ; and sometimes it would sound so loud 
within me, yea, and as it were call so strongly after 
me, that once above all the rest, I turned my head 
over my shoulder, thinking verily that some man 
behind me had called me ; being at a great dis- 
tance, methonght he called so loud ; it came, as I 
have thought since, to have stirred me up to watch- 
fulness ; it came to acquaint me that a cloud and 
a storm was coming down upon me. But so 
foolish was I and ignorant, that I knew not the 
reason of this sound, only I mused and wondered 
in my mind that at this rate, so often and so 
load, it should still be sounding and rattling in 
mine ears. But I soon perceived the end of God 
therein. 

" For about the space of a month after, a very 
great storm came down upon me, which handled 
me twenty times worse than all I had met with 
before ; it came stealing upon me, now by one 
piece, then by another ; first, all my comfort was 
taken from me ; then darkness seized upon me ; 
after which whole floods of blasphemies, both 
against God, Christ, and the Scriptures, were 
poured upon my spirit, to my great confusion and 
astonishment." He was tempted to question the 
very being of God and of Christ, and, in burning 
language, he continues the description of these 
fearful suggestions, many of which he says he 
dare not utter, neither by word nor pen, which 



bunyan's temptations. 43 

nevertheless for the spai e of a whole year did, with 
their number, continuance and fiery force, seize 
upon and overweigh his heart. " Now I thought, 
surely I am possessed of the devil ; again I 
thought I should be bereft of my wits ; for in- 
stead of lauding and magnifying God the Lord 
with others, if I have heard him spoken of, pre- 
sently some most horrible blasphemous thought 
or other would bolt out of my heart against him ; 
which things did sink me into very deep despair, 
for I concluded that such things could not pos- 
sibly be found amongst them that loved God." 

The provocations by which he was beset, are 
indeed almost too terrible to be spoken of. It is a 
wonder that he w T as kept from absolute despair. 
He was especially distressed in this manner when- 
ever he attempted an attendance on any of the 
ordinances of God, when he was at prayer, when 
he was laboring to compose his mind, and fix it 
upon God ; such distracting temptations would 
rush upon him as are almost inconceivable. Some- 
times, in the midst of all this, his heart was so 
hard, that if he could have given a thousand 
pounds for a tear, he could not have shed one. 
Yet, at times he had strong and heart-affecting 
apprehensions of God and divine truth ; and then, 
oh with what eagerness in such intervals of relief 
did his soul pour itself forth with inexpressible 
groanings for God's mercy ; his whole soul in 
every word. And then again the Tempter would 
be upon him with such discouragements as these : 
" You are very hot after mercy, but I w r ill cool 
you ; this frame shall not last always ; many have 



44 bunyan's temptations. 

been as hot as you for a season ; but I have 
quenched their zeal." And with this such and 
such who were fallen off would be set before 
mine eyes. Then would I be afraid that I should 
do so too ; but, thought I, I am glad this comes 
into my mind ; well, I will watch and take what 
care I can. " Though you do," said Satan, " I 
shall be too hard for you ; I will cool you in- 
sensibly by degrees, by little and little. What care 
I," saith he, " though I be seven years in chilling 
your heart, if I can do it at last 1 Continual 
rocking will lull a crying child asleep ; I will ply 
it close, but I will have my end accomplished. 
Though you be burning hot at present, yet I can 
pull you from this fire ; I shall have you cold before 
it be long." 

Was ever any thing more natural than this ? 
Was ever more solemn truth couched in such a 
dialogue, of which the very sarcasm and humor is 
awful \ It was the taunting of the devil ; but Bun- 
yan's heart, once set on fire by divine grace, was 
not so easy to cool as Satan at this time thought for. 
The poor Pilgrim was well nigh in despair under 
his fierce enemy, but he kept up his crying and 
pleading with God. Little did he think at this time 
how gracious and powerful a friend was near him, 
for he could not see the Heavenly Refiner watching 
over this child, his jewel, guarding the furnace and 
tempering its heat. Neither could his great adver- 
sary see him, or surely he would have left his de- 
vilish work in despair. The passage reminds me 
of a place in the Pilgrim's Progress, of which it is 
so evidently the germ, that I must refer you to it. 



bunyan's temptations. 45 

It is one of those instructive sights, which Christian 
was indulged with and instructed by, in the house 
of the Interpreter. You recollect that the Inter- 
preter took Christian by the hand, and led him into 
a place, where was a fire burning against a wall, 
and one standing by it always casting much water 
upon it, to quench it ; yet did the fire burn brighter 
and hotter. Then said Christian, What means this ? 
The Interpreter answered, This fire is the work of 
grace, that is wrought in the heart ; he that casts 
water upon it, to extinguish and put it out, is the 
devil ; but in that thou seest the fire notwithstand- 
ing burn higher and hotter, thou shalt also see the 
reason of that. So he had him about to the back- 
side of the wall, where he saw a man with a vessel 
of oil in his hand, of which he did also continually 
cast, but secretly, into the fire. Then said Chris- 
tian, What means this ? The Interpreter answered, 
This is Christ, who continually with the oil of his 
grace maintains the work already begun in the 
heart, by the means of which, notwithstanding 
what the devil can do, the souls of his people prove 
gracious still ; and in that, thou sawest that the man 
stood behind the wall to maintain the fire, this is to 
teach thee that it is hard for the tempted to see 
how this work of grace is maintained in the soul. 

You will also read, if you wish to see another 
passage of great beauty that grew out of these 
dreadful temptations, the account of Christian's 
fight with Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation. 
"In this combat no man can imagine, unless he had 
seen and heard, as I did, what yelling and hideous 
roaring Apollyon made all the time of the fight ; 



46 bunyan's temptations. 

he spake like a dragon : and on the other side, 
what sighs and groans burst from Christian's heart. 
I never saw him all the while give so much as one 
pleasant look, till he perceived he had wounded 
Apollyon with his two-edged sword; then indeed 
he did smile and look upward. But it was the 
dreadfullest fight that ever I saw." Ay ! and this 
is so vivid, beause the Dreamer himself was gazing 
back upon his own fearful experience. He sees 
himself, describes himself, as in this Grace Abound- 
ing, beneath the horrible assaults of Satan, dur- 
ing this long and murky year of temptation, a 
year passed beneath a continual storm of the fiery 
darts of the Wicked One. But now came an inter- 
val of mercy ; a hand came to poor exhausted Bun- 
yan, with the leaves from the Tree of Life for his 
healing; his comfort and deliverance he always ob- 
tained from the word of God, which would come 
into his soul with the power of an immediate voice 
from heaven. "The Lord," he says, "did more 
fully and graciously discover himself unto me, the 
temptation was removed, and I was put into my 
right mind again, as other christians were." The 
glory of God's word was now at times so weighty 
upon Bunyan, that he was ready to swoon away 
with solid joy and peace. This was the Tree of 
Life after the conflict. And now he had a season 
of great delight under holy Mr. GhTord's ministry, 
and now did God set him down in all the things of 
Christ, and did open unto him his words, and cause 
them to shine before him, and make them to dwell 
with him, talk with him, and comfort him. And 
now about this time, what was next to the very 



bunyan's temptations. 47 

leaves from the Tree oi Life for Bunyan's spirit, 
came into his hands by God's providence, while he 
was longing to see some ancient godly man's ex- 
perience, an old tattered copy of Martin Luther's 
Comment on Galatians ; in which he had but a little 
way perused, before he found his own condition in Lu- 
ther's experience so largely and profoundly handled, 
as if the book had been written out of his own heart. 
Oh with what joy did Bunyan in the midst of his 
temptations, hail this trumpet voice of the old Re- 
former! He saw now that he was not alone. It 
was like that voice which his own Christian heard, 
when groping in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
and which caused his heart to leap for gladness to 
find that some other soul that feared God was in 
that Valley with him, the voice as of a man going be- 
fore and crying, Though I walk through the Valley 
of the Shadow of Death, I will fear no evil, for 
Thou art with me ! I must, said Bunyan, declare 
before all men that I do prefer this book of Martin 
Luther upon the Galatians, before all the books, 
excepting the Holy Bible, that I ever have seen, as 
most fit for a wounded conscience. 

Now was Bunyan in great blessedness in the 
love of Christ ; but it lasted only for a little, and 
then again the Tempter rushed upon him with a 
dreadful violence for the space of another whole 
year, in which, if I should take the whole even- 
ing, I could not describe to you the twinings 
and wrestlings, the strivings and agonies of 
Bunyan's spirit. Strange, as it may seem, the 
temptation presented was that of selling Christ, 
sell him, sell him, sell him, sell him, as fast as man 



48 bunyan's temptations. 

can speak, which tortured Bunyan as upon the 
rack, and against which, with a morbid fear lest he 
should consent thereto, he bent the whole force 
of his being with a strife unutterable. At length, 
one morning there seemed to pass deliberately 
through his heart, as if he were tired of resisting 
the wickedness, this thought, " Let him go if he 
will," and from that moment down fell Bunyan, 
" as a bird that is shot from the top of a tree into 
great guilt and fearful despair." 

And now commenced a great strife of scripture 
against scripture in his soul, the threatenings 
against the promises, the law against the gospel, a 
conflict of unbelief and terror, in which he was 
indeed in the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and 
not a glimpse of light through its darkness. Deep 
called unto deep at the noise of God's water-spouts ; 
all the waves and billows seemed to have gone 
over him. And now, like a man seeking to escape 
from a labyrinth of fire, in which he was bewildered, 
he would run from scripture to scripture, from this 
avenue to that in the Bible, but found every door 
closed against him. With a dreadful perverse- 
ness and ingenuity of unbelief under the power of 
his adversary, who seemed now indeed to have 
gotten the victory, he would compare his case with 
that of all the greatest criminals recorded in the 
Bible, but always turned every comparison against 
himself. In this state of mind he met with that 
terrible book, the despairing death of the Apostate 
Francis Spira, which, he says, was to his troubled 
spirit as salt rubbed into a fresh wound ; and so 
it must have been inevitably, such a picture of the 



bunyan's temptations. 49 

sufferings of a soul in despair ; and that sentence 
was frightful to him, " Man knows the beginning of 
sin, but who bounds the issues thereof V And that 
scripture, which was pursuing his soul all this year 
like one of the avenging furies, fell continually 
as an hot thunderbolt upon his conscience : " For 
ye know how that afterwards, when he would 
have inherited the blessing, he was rejected ; for 
he found no place of repentance, though he sought 
it carefully with tears." 

Now he is in the midst of his own Death- Valley, 
beset behind and before ; and if we compare the 
account of this Valley with Bunyan's own expe- 
rience, we shall see that the picture is simply the 
elements of his own inward sufferings combined 
and reorganized. " Thus Christian went on a 
great while, yet still the flames would be reaching 
towards him; also he heard doleful voices and 
rushings to and fro, so that sometimes he thought 
he should be torn to pieces, or trodden down 
like mire in the streets. This frightful sight was 
seen, and these dreadful voices were heard by him 
,for several miles together ; and coming to a place 
where he thought he heard a company of fiends 
coming forward to meet him, he stopt and began 
to muse what he had best to do : sometimes he had 
a thought to go back ; then again he thought he 
might be half way through the valley : he remem- 
bered also how he had vanquished many a danger 
already ; and that tfae danger of going back might 
be much more than to go forward." 

" One thing I would not let slip. I took notice 
that now poor Christian was so confounded, that 

7 



50 bunyan's temptations. 

he did not know his own voice ; and thus I per- 
ceived it; just when he was come over against the 
mouth of the burning pit, one of the wicked ones 
got behind him, and stept up softly to him, and 
whisperingly suggested many grievous blasphemies 
to him, which he verily thought had proceeded 
from his own mind ! This put Christian more to 
it than any thing that he met with before, even to 
think that he should now blaspheme him that he 
loved so much before ; yet, if he could have helped 
it, he would not have done it. But he had not the 
discretion either to stop his ears, or to know from 
whence those blasphemies came." 

Nothing could be more vividly descriptive than 
this passage from the Pilgrim's Progress, of the 
state of Bunyan's own mind, as from a point of 
calm and clear observation, he afterwards looked 
back upon it in light from Heaven. His obstinate 
unbelief, his entanglement in the wrathful places of 
God's word, his jealousy against all consolation, 
and his holding of the dagger to his heart, that 
he had sold Christ, these things in the Valley of 
the Shadow of Death, were as much the work of 
the unseen Devil, as the crowds of blasphemous 
suggestions that were shoaled upon him, well-nigh 
driving him distracted. And now you see his own 
thoughtful, deliberate, well considered judgment in 
regard to that state of mind. " He had not the 
discretion either to stop his ears, or to know whence 
those blasphemies came." And who would have 
had 1 Bunyan possessed a very strong mind ; but 
let any man be thus assaulted of the Devil, and 
see if he will possess his soul in patience any better 



bunyan's temptations. 51 

than Bunyan did 1 How tender was his conscience ! 
How fearful of offending God ! How pierced with 
anguish in the thought of such ingratitude to Christ! 
And how fervid and powerful his imagination at work 
amidst Eternal Realities? Ah ! here were materials 
for Satan to work upon in order to persuade Bun- 
yan that he had sinned irrecoverably, in order to 
make him endorse against himself the bill of blas- 
phemy and unbelief presented by his implacable, 
malignant, hellish adversary ! And he did endorse 
it, in all the anxiety, trembling and agony of des- 
pair, he did endorse those bitter dreadful things 
against himself; but it was a forged bill; it was 
known in Heaven's Chancery; the Saviour himself 
denied it. 

Upon a day when Bunyan was bemoaning and 
abhorring himself in this abyss of misery, there came 
as it were a voice from Heaven, in a sweet pleasant 
wind, that like the wings of angels rushed past him, 
with this question, "Didst thou ever refuse to be 
justified by the blood of Christ V and Bunyan's 
heart, in spite of all the black clouds of guilt that 
Satan's malignity had rolled around his conscience, 
was compelled honestly to answer, No. Then fell 
with power that word of God upon him, See that 
ye refuse not Him that speaketh. This, says 
Bunyan, made a strange seizure upon my spirit ; it 
brought light with it, and commanded a silence in 
my heart of all those tumultuous thoughts, that did 
before use, like masterless hell-hounds, to roar and 
bellow and make a hideous noise within me. 

Not Milton himself could have described this 
with more energy ; nay, you may apply the very Ian- 



52 bunyan's temptations. 

guage of the great Poet of Heaven, Hell and 
Satan; for the thunder now, "winged with red 
lightning and impetuous rage," had for a season 
spent his shafts, and ceased for a moment 

"To bellow through the vast and boundless deep !" 

Yea, says Bunyan, this was a kind of check for 
my proneness to desperation ; a kind of threaten- 
ing of me, if I did not, notwithstanding my sins, and 
the heinousness of them, venture my salvation upon 
the Son of God. But this providence was so 
strange, so wonderful to Bunyan, that for twenty 
years he could not make a judgment of it, would 
scarce dare give an opinion ; only one thing he 
knew, it commanded a great calm in his soul; and 
another thing he knew, namely, that he lay not the 
stress of his salvation upon this wonderful interpo- 
sition, of which he knew not what to say, but upon 
the Lord Jesus in the promise. 

And here we see a remarkable trait in Bun- 
yan's character, and that is, that with all the 
strength of his feelings and the glowing, restless 
power of his imagination, he was so entirely free 
from fanaticism, so unwilling, except compelled, to 
refer his experience to any thing like personal 
miraculous interpositions. He was exceedingly 
cautious to rest upon nothing, to trust in nothing, 
but for which he had the warrant of God's word. 
This, as we have seen, was what holy Mr. Gilford, 
as well as his own good sense, taught him ; but 
there are few men who could have gone through 
Bunyan's experience, and not come out fanatics, cer- 
tainly none without the guidance of the Holy Spirit. 



bunyan's temptations. 53 

And we see here in a striking manner the distinc- 
tion between fanaticism and true piety. Fanaticism 
interprets according to its own vagaries, and not 
according to God's word; fanaticism leaves the 
word, and rises into its own wild spirit. Fanaticism 
interprets God's providences as miracles for self; 
it says, God is working miracles for me, I am 
the favored one of God, I have a special mission 
from God, and all my enemies are God's enemies. 
Then it proceeds to say, I belong to the true church, 
and all that do not go with me are of God's uncove- 
nanted mercies, heathen, uncircumcised, fit only, if 
I can get the power, for fire-and-faggot application. 
This indeed is the convulsive, Romish stage of 
fanaticism, but so it proceeds. Self and intoler- 
ance, pride and cruelty, are its constituent elements. 
But now how different these characteristics of Bun- 
yan ; as fearful, almost, of daring to appropriate any 
of God's miraculous interpositions in his own behalf, 
as he was of hiding himself from God under a false 
refuge. All Bunyan's hallucinations, if you please 
to call them such, were against himself, and made 
him remarkably gentle and humble ; so here Satan 
overdid his own work; but the hallucinations of 
fanaticism are all in behalf of self, and make the sub- 
ject of them proud, self-righteous, and intolerant. 
Bunyan's conscience was as tender, as sensitive, as 
quick to the evil and pain of sin, as the apostle John's ; 
and Bunyan was writing bitter things against him- 
self, when he was full of love, tenderness, and defe- 
rence to others ; but fanaticism is always writing 
proud things concerning itself, and despising others 
Two men went up into the temple to pray ; the one 



54 bunyan's temptations. 

a Pharisee, and the other a Publican. The Phari- 
see stood and prayed thus with himself; God, I 
thank thee that I am not as other men, extortioners, 
unjust, adulterers, or even as this Publican. I fast 
twice in the week. I give tithes of all that I possess. 
I belong to the true church. And the Publican 
standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his 
eyes to heaven, but smote upon his breast saying, 
God be merciful to me a sinner ! 

I have said that these blasphemies and unbelief 
were Satan's work, and not Bunyan's ; and now let 
us see another material, which Satan's devilish in- 
genuity had to work upon in Bunyan's composition, 
indeed in the very constitution of all our minds. 
There is a morbid disposition in the mind, when in 
an anxious state, or under great trials, to fasten upon 
any evil imagination, or conjecture, or suggestion 
which it dreads greatly, and to clasp it as it were, 
and hold to it. There is a sort of feverish state of 
the mind, which holds these phantasms, as a fever 
does in the body. In such a state, evil suggestions, 
though rejected, have a most horrible pertinacity in 
cleaving to the mind ; and the more the mind dreads 
them, and tries to avoid them, the more palpable 
they become. They really seem like fiends pursu- 
ing the soul, shouting over the shoulder, hissing in 
the ear. And I say the more direct and intense ef- 
forts a man makes to reject and avoid them, the 
more palpable and fiend-like they become. 

This is in part our very constitution, in the memo- 
ry as well as imagination; for, let a man try to 
forget any dreadful thing, of which he hates the re- 
membrance, and the more he tries to forget it, the 



bunyan's temptations. 55 

« 
more surely he remember.- it, the more he bodies it 
forth, and every thrust he makes at it causes it to 
glare up anew, reveals some new horror in it. Doubt- 
less, his peculiarity in our mental constitution is des- 
tined to play a most terrific part in the punishment 
of men's sins in Eternity ; for there can be nothing 
so dreadful as the remembrance of sin, and nothing, 
which men will strive with more intense earnest- 
ness to hide from and forget, than the recollection of 
their sins; and yet every effort they make at such 
forgetfnlness only gives to such sins a more terrible 
reality, and makes them blaze up in a more lurid 
light to the conscience. Oh, if they could but be for- 
gotten ! But the more intense is the earnestness of 
this wish, the more impossible becomes the forgetfnl- 
ness, the more terribly the dreaded evil stands out. 
There are cases even in this life, in which men would 
give ten thousand worlds, if they possessed them, 
could they only forget; but how much more in Eter- 
nity! The man that has committed a secret mid- 
night murder, how often, think you, though perhaps 
not a human being suspects it, would he give the 
riches of the material universe, if he had them at 
command, could he but forget that one moment's 
crime. But it is linked to his very constitution, 
and every time he tries to cut the chain, he does 
but rattle and rouse the crime out of its grave into a 
new existence. Did my hearers ever see Allston's 
picture of the bloody hand I It is a revelation of the 
power of sin through the combined agency of ima- 
gination, memory, and conscience — sin, unrepented 
in the conscience, unpardoned in the soul. 

Now all this Satan knew r far better than Bunyan. 



56 bunyan's temptations. 

* 

Was not the lost archangel's own soul always and 
obstinately dwelling upon his own sins ? Could he 
but forget his fall, his once blessed state, his holi- 
ness, his happiness, it would be almost heaven to 
him ! But no ! he might fly from heaven, and fly 
to the utmost limits of an external hell; but he 
could not fly from himself. 

" Me miserable ! Which way shall I fly 
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ? 
Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; 
And in the lowest deep a lower deep 
Still threatening to devour me opens wide 
To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven." 

This is poetry, of the highest, sublimest kind ; but 
it is not fiction ; it is not deeper poetry than it is truth, 
terrific truth ! It would seem as if Satan disgorged 
upon Bunyan the hell of his own soul more fully 
than ever he did upon any other mortal. Certainly, 
he made use of this morbid self-reproaching disposi- 
tion of Bunyan's mind to the utmost. He plied him, 
vexed him, overwhelmed him with devilish sugges- 
tions, well knowing that Bunyan would start from 
them as if an adder stung him, and yet that they 
would possess a sort of fascinating, icy, paralyzing 
power, like that which dwells in the eye of a rattle- 
snake. Now, if Bunyan could but have had his at- 
tention turned away from the eye of the temptations, 
from the face of the Tempter, from the point of 
almost morbid lunacy, as it were, the horrid charm 
would be broken. If at this time, Bunyan's mind 
could have been strongly arrested and filled by a 
presentation of Christ crucified, Satan would have 
found himself quite unnoticed, and all his tempta- 
tions unnerved ; but he succeeded in getting the 



bunyan's temptations. 57 

morbid attention of Bun) an fixed on himself, and 
his own detestableness and diabolical malignity 
and blasphemy, and then he could fasten his 
serpent's fangs in him, and nothing but Christ by 
his word and Spirit ever did or could deliver him. 
In regard to these temptations, Bunyan was 
sometimes just like a scared child, that thinks it 
sees a ghost, or like a timid person in a wood by 
twilight, that sees in the stump of a tree a man 
couched and lying in wait, and instead of daring to 
go boldly up to it, to see what it is, stands shivering 
and almost dead with terror. Who has not realized 
this in his own experience, timid or brave 1 And 
just so, Bunyan did not dare to go up to, and 
examine and look in the face, the shocking blas- 
phemies, accusations, and wrathful passages, that 
Satan would be ever thrusting into his soul ; but 
went cowering and shivering, and bowed down as a 
man in chains under the weight of them. There 
was a time when all that Satan said to him he 
seemed morbidly inclined to take upon trust ; and 
if. it were a fiery passage of God's word, so much 
the worse ; for instead of coming up to it as a child 
of God to see what it was, and whether it were 
really against him, he fled from it at once, as from 
the fiery, flaming sword in the gate to Eden. And 
nothing can be more curious, more graphic, more 
affecting in its interest, more childlike in its sim- 
plicity, than the manner in which Bunyan describes 
the commencement and progress of his recovery out 
of this state of condemnation and t,error : how 
timidly and cautiously, and as it were by stealth, 
he began to look these dreadful passages in the 

8 



58 bunyan's temptations. 

face, when they had ceased pursuing him ; standing 
at first afar off, and gazing at them, and then', as a 
child, that cannot get rid of its fears, slowly 
drawing near, and at length daring to touch them, 
and to walk around them, and to see their true 
position and meaning, but always conscious of their 
awful power. 

If ever there was a man who knew to the full the 
meaning of that passage, The fiery darts of the 
Wicked One; and of that, The word of God is 
sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to 
the dividing asunder of soul and spirit ; it was 
John Bunyan. You cannot possibly tell, except 
you read it for yourself, the conflicts that his 
soul sustained between opposing passages of scrip- 
ture, wielded on the one side by the Spirit of God, 
and on the other by his soul's malignant adver- 
sary ; the blessed Spirit holding out some sweet 
gracious, comprehensive promise, and then Satan 
flashing between it and Bunyan's soul the gleaming 
sword of a threat to keep him from it ; and so, as I 
have said, the swords of Michael and of Satan are 
thus crossing and flashing continually in this pro- 
tracted and fearful conflict. 

There were two passages especially, that thus 
met and struggled for the mastery ; and the one 
was that sweet promise, " My grace is sufficient for 
thee ;" and the other that most tremendous passage 
in regard to Esau selling his birthright, and after 
finding no place of repentance. " Oh," says Bun- 
yan, " the combats and conflicts that I did meet 
with ! As I strove to hold by this word of pro- 
mise, that of Esau would fly in my face like light- 



bunyan's temptattons. 59 

ning. So my soul did hang as in a pair of scales, 
sometimes up, and sometimes down ; now in peace, 
and now again in terror. And I remember one 
day, as I was in divers frames of spirit, and consi- 
dering that the frames were according to the nature 
of several scriptures that came in upon my mind, if 
this of grace, then I was quiet ; but if that of Esau, 
then tormented. Lord, thought I, if both these 
scriptures should meet in my heart at once, I won- 
der which of them would get the better of me. So 
methought I had a longing mind that they might 
come both together upon me ; yea, I desired of 
God they might. Well, about two or three days 
after, so they did indeed; they bolted both upon me 
at a time, and did work and struggle strongly in me 
for a while; at last that about Esau's birthright be- 
gan to wax weak and withdraw, and vanish, and this 
about the sufficiency of grace prevailed with power 
and joy. And as I was in a muse about this 
thing, that scripture came in upon me, Mercy re- 
joiceth over judgment. This was a wonderment 
to me, yet truly I am apt to think it was of God, 
for the word of the law and wrath must give place 
to the word of life and grace ; because, though the 
word of condemnation be glorious, yet the word of 
life and salvation doth far exceed in glory. Also, 
that Moses and Elias must both vanish, and leave 
Christ and his saints alone." 

Now we may call this a conceit, if we please, 
but to some minds this use of scripture is inimi- 
tably sweet and beautiful. Nor can there be any 
thing more beautiful than to see this soldier of 
Jesus Christ escaped from the perils of the con- 



60 bunyan's temptations. 

flict, sitting down to trace, with so calm and skilful 
a hand, and a heart so believing, joyous and grate- 
ful, the evolutions and currents of the battle, the 
movements of his great Commander on the one 
side, and of his fierce Adversary on the other. 

The consideration of Bunyan's temptations re- 
veals to us three great secrets ; the secret of his 
deep experimental knowledge of the power of 
God's word ; the secret of his great skill and power 
in preaching ; and the secret of his pure, idiomatic, 
energetic English style. Every step he took in 
the word of God was experimental. The Bible 
was his book of all learning; for years he studied 
it as for his life. No bewildered mariner, in a 
crazy bark on an unknown sea, amidst sunken 
reefs and dangerous shallows, ever pondered his 
chart with half the earnestness. It was as if life 
or death depended on every time he opened it, and 
every line he read. The scriptures were wonder- 
ful things unto him ; he saw that the truth and 
verity of them were the keys of the kingdom of 
heaven ; those that the scriptures favor, they must 
inherit bliss ; but those that they oppose and con- 
demn must perish for evermore. " One sentence of 
the scripture did more afflict and terrify my mind, I 
mean those sentences that stood against me, as 
sometimes I thought they every one of them did, 
than an army of forty thousand men that might 
come against me. Wo be to him, against whom 
the scriptures bend themselves. This made me, 
with careful heart and watchful eye, with great 
fearfulness to turn over every leaf, and with much 
diligence mixed with trembling, to consider every 



bunyan's temptations. 61 

sentence, together with it natural force and lati- 
tude. Now would he leap into the bosom of that 
promise, that yet he feared did shut its heart 
against him. Now also I would labor to take the 
word as God hath laid it down, without restraining 
the natural force of one syllable thereof. Oh ! 
what did I now see in that blessed sixth of John ! 
« And him that cometh unto me I will in no wise 
cast out.' Oh many a pull hath my heart had 
with Satan for that blessed sixth of John ! A 
word, a word, to lean a weary soul upon, that it 
might not sink forever! It was that I hunted for! 
Yea, often when I have been making for the pro- 
mise, I have seen as if the Lord would refuse my 
soul forever. I was often as if I had run upon 
the pikes, and as if the Lord had thrust at me, 
to keep me from him as with a flaming sword !" 

Here we have the secret of Bunyan's experi- 
mental knowledge of the word of God ; and this, 
coupled with the remembrance of the tenor of 
holy Mr. Gifford's instructions to take nothing upon 
trust, but to labor to be set down by the Spirit of 
God in the word of God, and how faithfully Bun- 
yan made this his practice, shows us how he came 
to be so rooted and grounded in Divine Truth, so 
consummate a master in it, in its living beauty and 
harmony. He was led from truth to truth by the 
Divine Spirit ; every part of the gospel was thus re- 
vealed unto him ; he could not express what he 
saw and felt of its glory, of the steadiness of Jesus 
Christ, the Rock of man's salvation, and of the 
power, sweetness, light and fitness of his word. It 
was as a fire and a hammer in his own soul, burn- 



62 bunyan's temptations. 

ing and beating. It was food and nourishment 
to his spiritual life, and a clothing of majesty 
and glory to his intellect. There never was a 
being more perfectly and entirely created out of 
the scriptures. 

And here too, in his intense study of the Bible, 
you have the secret of the purity of his English 
style. How is it possible, it might have been 
asked, that this illiterate man, familiar with none 
of the acknowledged models of his native tongue 
can have acquired a style which its most skilful 
and eloquent masters might envy, for its artless 
simplicity, purity and strength ! It was because his 
soul was baptized by the Spirit of God in its native 
idioms ; because he was familiar as no other man 
of his age was, with the model, the very best model 
of the English tongue in existence, our common 
English Bible ! Yes! that very Bible, which some 
modern infidel reformers would exclude from our 
schools, and from its blessed place of influence 
over the hearts and minds of our children ! The 
fervor of the Poet's soul, acting through the me- 
dium of such a language as he learned from our 
common translation of the scriptures, has produced 
some of the most admirable specimens in existence 
of the manly power and familiar beauty of the Eng- 
lish tongue. There are passages even in the Grace 
Abounding, which for fervid ness and power of ex- 
pression might be placed side by side with any 
thing in the most admired authors, and not suffer 
in the comparison. Bunyan is not less to be 
praised than Shakspeare himself for the purity of 
his language, and the natural simplicity of his 



bunyan's temptations. 63 

style. It comes even nearer indeed, to the com- 
mon diction of good conversation. Its idioms are 
genuine English, in their most original state, un- 
mingled with any external ornament, and of a 
beauty unborrowed from any foreign shades of 
expression. 

Then too, Bunyan's imagination, his judgment, 
his taste, every faculty of his mind was developed, 
disciplined and enriched at the same great fountain 
of the Scriptures. The poetry of the Bible was the 
source of his poetical power. His heart was not only 
made new by the Spirit of the Bible, but his whole 
intellectual being was penetrated and transfigured 
by its influence. He brought the spirit and power 
gathered from so long and exclusive a communion 
with the prophets and apostles to the composition 
of every page of the Pilgrim's Progress. To the 
habit of mind thus induced, and the workings of 
an imagination thus disciplined, may be traced the 
simplicity of all his imagery, and the great power 
of his personifications. The spirit of his work is 
Hebrew ; we may trace the mingled influence both 
of David and Isaiah in the character of his genius; 
and as to the images in the sacred poets, he is 
lavish in the use of them, in the most natural and 
unconscious manner possible : his mind was imbued 
with them. He is indeed the only Poet, whose 
genius was nourished entirely by the Bible. He 
felt and thought in scripture imagery. 

Now here are great lessons for all our minds. 
We say to every young man, whose intellectual as 
well as moral habits are now formed, Do you wish 
to gain a mastery over your native language in its 



64 bunyan's temptations. 

earliest, purest, freshest idioms, and to command a 
style, in which you may speak with power to the 
very hearts of the people 1 Study your Bible, your 
English Bible ; study it with your feelings, your 
heart, and let its beautiful forms of expression en- 
twine themselves around your sensibilities, your very 
habits of thinking, no more to be separated from 
them, than sensibility and thought itself can be 
separated from your existence. We stand in amaze- 
ment at the blessed power of transfiguration which 
the Bible possesses for the human intellect. And 
yet we are not amazed, for the Bible is the voice 
of God, and the words of the Bible are the 
words of God ; and he who will give himself up 
to them, who will feed upon them, and love them, 
and dwell amidst them, shall have his intellect 
and his soul transfigured with glory and blessed- 
ness by them. Do you ask for experience \ Do 
you desire life 1 Hear our Saviour. " The words 
that I speak unto you, they are Spirit and they are 
Life !" But beware you let no mediator come 
between your soul, and its immediate, electric 
contact with those lively oracles. Beware you 
let no church, with its self-assumed authority of 
interpretation, hang up its darkening veil between 
your soul and the open face of God in the scrip- 
tures. Come to them for yourself. Say to yourself, 
This is my possession, and no church, and no 
priest, and no power in the universe shall wrest 
it from me. This is my God and my Saviour 
speaking to me ; and he shall speak to me, though 
the whole church were against me, or though I were 
the only christian in the world. "Yea," saith our 



bunyan's temptations. 65 

Saviour, " if ye abide in me, and my words abide in 
you, ye shall ask what ye will, and it shall be done 
unto you." We say, Put your soul beneath the fire 
of God's word, and not beneath the winking tapers 
of the fathers, or the councils or the traditions in the 
churches! And just so, if we could get the Ro- 
man Catholics within the sound of our voice in 
God's sanctuary, we would say to every Roman 
Catholic, How can you be willing, as a Man 
and a Christian, to let any priest, or pope, or 
church, or daring council, or saint on earth, or saint 
in heaven, take from your soul your immediate 
personal communion with your God. Come to 
him yourself, and live upon his words yourself, and 
all the anathemas of all the popes, councils, priests, 
and churches in the world, shall only strengthen 
and deepen in your soul the elements of eternal 
blessedness. 

And to every Christian we would say, Mind the 
example of Bunyan and his wise Evangelist, "holy 
Mr. GhTord," and when you study the scriptures, 
study them as for your life, take fast hold upon 
them, bind them upon your neck, engrave them in 
your affections, seek to be set down in them by 
the Spirit of God, seek their experimental know- 
ledge, the living, burning experience of their power. 
Let the Spirit of God lead you from truth to truth. 
So, and in no other way, you can be powerful as 
a Christian. Yea, this was the experience of Paul 
and Luther and Bunyan, and of all men mighty 
in the scriptures. This is the experience that we 
need, in this very age into which we are thrown, 
in order to save the church and the world from 

9 



66 bunyan's temptations. 

destruction. This is the experience that must 
constitute a new era of power in the church, if we 
would meet the crisis that has come upon us, in the 
resurrection of old exploded errors under new 
forms. We must not let Christ be displaced by 
the church. We must enter as Zuingle said, into 
God's thoughts in his own word ; and we must 
dwell there, as in a tower of invincible strength 
and glory! Hear an old, noble, martyred saint, 
now in glory. I had rather follow the Shadow of 
Christ, said the blessed Reformer and martyr, 
Bishop Hooper, than the body of all the general 
councils or doctors since the death of Christ. It 
is mine opinion unto all the world, that the scrip- 
tures solely, and the apostle's church is to be fol- 
lowed, and no man's authority, be he Augustine, 
Tertullian, or even Cherubim or Seraphim ! 

And to every unconverted person we would say, 
See how Bunyan entered the strait and narrow way 
and rose to Heaven. He followed the word of God. 
Take you the word of God. Take that one sentence, 
Flee from the wrath to come ; and let it point you 
to that other sentence, Believe in the Lord Jesus 
Christ. And if the world, seeing you so set out, 
ridicule you, shut your ears like Christian and run 
forward, and stay not, till the Wicket Gate opens 
before you, and you enter, and become a blessed 
Pilgrim from the City of Destruction to the City of 
Immanuel. 

Here now, is the secret of Bunyan's power in 
preaching. He became a preacher, through his 
power in God's word. That word, so kindled in 
his soul by the Spirit of God, could not be repressed ; 



bunyan's temptations. 67 

it would blaze out ; it was as a fire in his bones, 
if he restrained it, and it must burn. Unconscious- 
ly to himself, others first marked its power in him, 
and marked him as an instrument of God, for the 
instruction of his people and the conversion of men. 
Bunyan was pressed on, but never put himself 
forward. The gifts and graces of God in him 
shone so brightly, that men would have him for 
their minister. He was exceedingly retiring, hum- 
ble, trembling, self-distrustful, and began to speak 
only to a few, in few words, in little meetings. 
But it was soon seen and felt that the Spirit and 
the word of God were speaking in him. And even 
before he became the ordained pastor of a people, 
he had that seal of God's ambassadors, which is 
better than all the consecrating oil of the Vatican, 
better than the hands of all the Bishops, better than 
all apostolical successions traced down through 
idolaters and adulterers in the House of God ; he 
had the seal of the Spirit of God upon his preach- 
ing, bringing men to Christ. He could say, if he 
chose, "The seal of mine apostleship are ye in 
the Lord ! Though I be not an apostle unto 
others, yet doubtless I am unto you." These 
things were, as well they might be, an argument 
unto Bunyan, that God had called him to, and stood 
by him in this work. Wherefore, says he, though 
of myself of all the saints the most unworthy, yet I, 
but with great fear and trembling at the sight of my 
own weakness, did set upon the work, and did, 
according to my gift, and the proportion of my 
faith, preach that blessed gospel that God has 
showed me in the holy word of truth ; which, when 



68 bunyan's temptations. 

the country understood they came in to hear the 
word by hundreds, and that from all parts, though 
upon divers and sundry accounts. 

Bunyan was called to his ministry, and led into 
it, by God's word, though most unfortunately not 
in the regular line of the apostolical succession. 
He enumerates the passages which ran in his 
mind and encouraged and strengthened him ; and 
they are very striking, and all-sufficient for his 
justification. The first of them is that of Acts 
viii. 4. "Therefore they that were scattered 
abroad, went every where preaching the word." 
Bunyan knew there was no apostolical succession 
there. Another passage was that in 1 Peter iv. 10. 
"As every man hath received the gift, even so min- 
ister the same one to another, as good stewards 
of the manifold grace of God." Bunyan knew that 
being addressed to the strangers scattered through- 
out Pontus, Galatia,Cappadocia, Asia and Bithynia, 
there was no apostolical succession there. He also 
knew that in the case of the household of Ste- 
phanas, who had addicted themselves to the minis- 
try of the saints, there was no apostolical succession. 
And these passages all were as so many certificates 
to him from Jesus Christ, that he, being called by 
the Holy Ghost, might preach the gospel. And so 
he did preach it, and many and blessed were the 
seals of his faithful stewardship. He knew what 
the office of the ministry was. He had often read 
Paul's catalogue of its qualifications, and they suited 
the frame of his own intrepid spirit. " In all 
things approving ourselves as the ministers of 
God, in much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, 



bunyan's temptations. 69 

in distresses, in stripe*,, in imprisonments, in 
tumults, in labors, in watchings, in fastings ; by 
pureness, by knowledge, by long-suffering, by 
kindness, by the Holy Ghost, by love unfeign- 
ed ; by the word of truth, by the power of 
God, by the armor of righteousness on the right 
hand and on the left, by honor and dishonor, 
by evil report and good report ; as deceivers, 
and yet true ; as unknown, and yet well known ; 
as dying, and behold we live ; as chastened, 
and not killed ; as sorrowful, yet always re- 
joicing ; as poor, yet making many rich ; as 
having nothing, and yet possessing all things." 
2 Cor. vi. 4 — 10. There is no apostolical succes- 
sion here, nor prelatical nor episcopal consecra- 
tion ; but a succession of adversities ; a consecration 
to the sacred fires of self-denial and of suffering for 
Christ's sake. Assuredly John Bunyan was as true, 
and regular, and Heaven-commissioned a minister 
of Jesus Christ, as any bishop in lawn sleeves, under 
whose jurisdiction he was forbidden to preach, and 
was thrust into prison. 

Bunyan's life and discipline, under the leadings 
of Divine Providence, were very much like those of 
some of the early Reformers of England. In his 
character and his preaching he resembled not a 
little the honesty and vigor, the straight- forwardness 
and humor of Bishop Latimer. He had kindred 
qualities also with those of Luther, and the perusal 
of Luther's Commentary on Galatians, we doubt 
not, exerted a great influence on the character of 
Bunyan's preaching. Nevertheless, the little that 
Bunyan received from others became his own, as 



70 bunyan's temptations. 

much as if it had originated with himself; being a 
process as natural and unconscious in his intel- 
lectual and moral being, as that in which the dews 
and light from heaven, falling on the plants, are 
worked into the nature of the fruits and foliage. 

Bunyan always preached what he saw and felt, 
and so the character of his preaching varied with 
the aspect which Divine Truth, in the coloring 
of his personal hopes and fears, wore to his own 
soul. He enumerates three chief enclosures in 
the pastures of Divine Truth, in which he was de- 
tained by his own experience ; for he dared not 
break through that hedge, and take things at 
second hand, as he might find them. He says, 
that he never endeavored nor durst make use, of 
other men's lives, or tracings, though, he adds, I do 
not condemn all that do ; for I verily thought and 
found by experience that what was taught me by 
the word and Spirit of Christ could be spoken, 
maintained, and stood to by the soundest and best 
established conscience. He could, in a great 
measure, say with the apostle, I certify you, breth- 
ren, that the gospel which was preached of me is 
not after man; for I neither received it of man, 
neither was I taught it, but by the revelation of 
Jesus Christ. 

In the first years of his preaching, Bunyan had 
not advanced to that richness and blissfulness of 
religious experience, in the possession and com- 
mand of which he wrote the Pilgrim's Progress. 
As a preacher, he was at first as a man flying from 
hell, and warning others to flee also, but not having 
reached the gates of Heaven. He was as his own 



bunyan's temptations. 71 

Pilgrim, trembling beneath the overhanging rocks 
of Sinai, stunned by the crashing peals of thunder, 
and well nigh blinded by the lightning. He was 
passing through the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death, and knowing the terrors of the Lord he 
persuaded men, pouring out upon them, as in a 
stream of fire, the intensity of his own convictions. 
How he preached in the midst of such soul-torturing 
experience may be gathered from his own language. 
rr his part of my work," says he, " I fulfilled with 
great sense : for the terrors of the Law, and guilt 
for my transgressions, lay heavy upon my con- 
science. I preached wha^: I felt, what smartingly I 
did feel, even that, under which my poor soul did 
groan and tremble to astonishment. Indeed, I 
have been as one sent to them from the dead. 

I WENT MYSELF IN CHAINS TO PREACH TO THEM IN 
CHAINS ; AND CARRIED THAT FIRE IN MY OWN CON- 
SCIENCE, THAT I PERSUADED THEM TO BE AWARE OF. 

I can truly say, that when I have been to preach, I 
have gone full of Guilt and Terror to the pulpit 
door ; and then it hath been taken off, and I have 
been at liberty in my mind until I have done my 
work; and then immediately, even before I could 
get down the pulpit stairs, I have been as bad as I 
was before. Yet God carried me on ; but surely 
with a strong hand, for neither guilt nor hell could 
take me off my work." So, Bunyan preached, and 
preaching so, it is no wonder that he made an im- 
pression both on men and devils. He describes 
with great nature and truth his various frames in 
preaching ; sometimes with such enlargement of 
soul, that he could speak as in a very flame of fire ; 



72 bujnyan's temptations. 

and then again so straitened in his utterance before 
the people, as if his head had been in a bag all the 
time of his exercise. The truth is, the heart of the 
preacher is more apt to be in the bag than his head 
is ; and when his heart is there, then generally, as 
to effect, his head is there also. This experience 
of the bag, we are sorry to say, is rather more com- 
mon than that of the seraphic enlargement of soul, 
which the love of Christ ought always to give us. 
Thus Bunyan went on preaching, travelling 
through those special enclosures in the word of 
God, of which he speaks, about the space of five 
years or more, when, says he, "I was caught in my 
then present practice, and cast into prison where 
I have lain above as long again to confirm the 
truth by way of suffering, as I was before in testi- 
fying of it according to the Scriptures, in a way of 
preaching." Nor is it to be supposed that during 
all this time Bunyan was free from the temptations 
of Satan in his ministry ; nay, he had them abun- 
dantly, but somewhat changed from inward to ex- 
ternal; for "when Satan perceived that his thus 
tempting and assaulting me would not answer his 
design ; to wit, to overthrow the ministry, and 
make it ineffectual as to the ends thereof; then he 
tried another way, which was to stir up the minds 
of the ignorant and malicious to load me with 
slanders and reproaches : now therefore I may say, 
that what the devil could devise, and his instru- 
ments invent, was whirled up and down the coun- 
try against me, thinking, as I said, that by that 
means they should make my ministry to be aban- 
doned. It began therefore to be rumored up and 



bunyan's temptations. 73 

down among the people that I was a witch, a Jesuit, 
a highwayman, a whoremonger, and the like. To 
all which I shall only say, God knows that I am 
innocent. I have a good conscience, and whereas 
they speak evil of me as an evil doer, they shall be 
ashamed that falsely accuse my good conversation 
in Christ. So then, what shall I say to those who 
have thus bespattered me 1 Shall I threaten them 1 
Shall I chide them 1 Shall I flatter them 1 Shall 
I entreat them to hold their tongues 1 No, not I. 
Were it not that these things make those ripe for 
damnation, who are the authors and abettors, I 
would say unto them, Report it, because it will in- 
crease my glory. Therefore, I bind these lies and 
slanders to me as an ornament ; it belongs to my 
christian profession to be thus vilified, slandered, 
reproached and reviled ; and since all this is 
nothing else, as my God and conscience do bear 
me witness, I rejoice in reproaches for Christ's 
sake." 

"Now as Satan endeavored by reproaches and 
slanders to make me vile among my countrymen, 
that if possible my preaching might be made of no 
more effect, so there was added hereto, a long and 
tedious imprisonment, that thereby I might be 
frightened from the service of Christ, and the 
world terrified, and made afraid to hear me preach. 
Of which I shall in the next place give you a brief 
account." 

Now in this matter of Bunyan's imprisonment, 
it is evident that so far as Satan had a share in it, 
he did, as we say, overshoot the mark ; he was a 

10 



74 bunyan's temptations. 

clear illustration of that saying of Shakspeare's 
concerning 

"Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself, 
And falls on t'other side." 

Doubtless this Enemy of souls, and this adversary 
of Bunyan, because of the great good he was doing 
in his preaching, supposed he had accomplished a 
great work when, through the tyranny of the Church 
Establishment, he had succeeded in silencing the 
preacher; and when he got him into prison, he 
thought within himself, There is an end of that 
man's usefulness ; no more souls shall rise to glory 
through him. But what a signal mistake ! Per- 
haps the greatest mistake but one or two, that 
Satan ever committed ! If this man, John Bun- 
yan, had been permitted still to go at large and 
preach, the world, doubtless, would never have 
been blessed with the Pilgrim's Progress. But 
God permitted the wrath of Bunyan's adversaries 
to shut him up in prison just at that point, where 
the inward temptations of the devil, and the disci- 
pline of God's Spirit, and Bunyan's varied acquaint- 
ance with men, and knowledge of his own heart, 
and experience in the business of preaching, and 
experimental knowledge of the gospel, and of the 
power, blessedness, and fitness of God's word, had 
just fitted him for the composition of precisely such 
a work. I say just at the point when God had 
fitted his chosen instrument for this work, he per- 
mitted the malice of his infernal Enemy, and the 
wrath of his earthly adversaries, to put hirn in a 
quiet cell, where he would have heavenly retirement 



bunyan's temptations. 75 

to meditate upon it, and uninterrupted leisure to 
accomplish it. Was there ever a more perfect and 
delightful illustration of that promise, surely, thou 
wilt cause the wrath of man to praise thee, and the 
remainder of wrath thou wilt restrain ! 

And now as to these Satanic temptations : — hav- 
ing followed Bunyan to prison, we must perforce 
leave him there till such time as we can, God 
willing, dwell more particularly on the manner in 
which he was brought there, and the way in which 
the light and loveliness of the creations of his Pil- 
grim arose like the sun in his soul out of that im- 
prisoned darkness. But a few words as to these 
Satanic temptations. It is a deeply interesting and 
important subject ; one on which we would much 
rather devote a whole lecture. We do not sup- 
pose that any man who, in spite of the testimony 
of the scriptures, is a disbeliever in the existence 
of the devil and his angels, will be brought to 
believe on the testimony of Bunyan ; and yet, 
in the providence of God there might be such 
a. thing ; at any rate the strong and simple expe- 
rience and testimony of Bunyan might lead such 
a man to review with more candor and less doubt 
the scripture argument and evidence. And 
we say that the murky experience of Bunyan 
cannot philosophically be accounted for on any 
other principles, than those laid down in the Scrip- 
tures, nor in any other way so rationally, so proba- 
bly, so truly, as Bunyan himself under the light of 
the Scriptures, has taken to illustrate it. Refer it 
to Satanic agency, and all is plain, consistent, and 
full of the deepest, most solemn interest. Reject 



76 bunyan's temptations. 

that agency, and all is unaccountable, absurd, pro- 
digious; unless, indeed, you make Bunyan a down- 
right madman, a lunatic ; which conclusion, in 
regard to a man whose whole life, from the time 
when that madness commenced, was one bright 
career of goodness, and who in the midst of it 
wrote the most sensible, excellent and delightful 
book in the language, would be the most absurd 
of all conclusions. Indeed, there was more " method 
in his madness" than there is in most other men's 
sanity. But his own deliberate conclusions con- 
cerning the workings of his mind, and the influ- 
ences brought to bear upon him, formed fifteen 
years or more after his own personal passage through 
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, formed in the 
midst of light from heaven, formed with the most 
careful adherence to the words and principles of 
the Scriptures, formed with the help of much 
observance of the conflicts of others, and formed 
by a mind not at all inclined to fanaticism, but re- 
markably liberal, tolerant, free from extremes, and 
cautious in asserting a supernatural interposition, 
as in some remarkable cases we have seen he was; 
I say the conclusions of such a mind, after such a 
period of thoughtful, prayerful examination, are 
invaluable, and to be relied upon. 

They even form an important addition to our 
external testimony for the truth of the Scriptures, 
and the manner of their interpretation. How often 
do we have to resort to existing realities to explain 
texts of Scripture otherwise inexplicable, and which 
to the infidel vulgar, to men of the kin of Voltaire 
and Tom Paine, serve for ignorant and senseless 



bunyan's temptations. 77 

ridicule. For example, to take one of the very 
simplest instances, if a man meet with the passage, 
" I am become like a bottle in the smoke," or the 
passage about putting new wine into old bottles, he 
must go to an external reality to determine its 
meaning ; and if he does not know (as most infidel 
writers have not known enough even about the 
Scriptures to know) that bottles were made ou t of 
goat-skins, he may, perhaps, like Voltaire or Tom 
Paine, exercise his wit upon these passages. But 
if he be a believer, and come for the first time upon 
such an illustration, he will say, How delightful is 
this ! I bless God for this ! Now I know the mean- 
ing of a passage of which before I was ignorant. 
And just so, if what is said in the Scriptures in 
many passages about the temptations of the devil, 
were perfectly inexplicable to one who had never 
met with those temptations, and he should for the 
first time meet the tale of Bunyan's trials, he would 
say, when he sees such experience, now I know 
how to interpret those Scriptures ; now I see the 
meaning of things which I did not see before; 
now I know the meaning of those fiery darts of the 
Wicked One. Poor Bunyan ! His suffering was, 
as it were, vicarious ; he was tried, that I might 
be instructed. 

Suffer me to illustrate this matter still further, 
for it is important. Among the difficulties brought 
against the Scriptures, it had, at one time, often 
been alleged as an objection to the historical accu- 
racy of the New Testament, that it gave the title 
of Proconsul to the Governor of Cyprus, (Acts, 
13 : 7,) when, in strict propriety, he could only 



78 bunyan's temptations. 

have been styled Praetor of the Province. So 
strongly did this apparent inaccuracy weigh with 
Beza, observes Mr. Benson, that he absolutely at- 
tempted to remove it by translation ; and our own 
translators have used the term Deputy, instead of 
the correct title of Proconsul. Now, it is a fact, that 
a medal has since then been discovered, on which 
the very same title is assigned, about the same 
period, to the governor of the same province, and 
so that difficulty vanishes forever. But, as Benson 
well remarks in his " Scripture Difficulties," it does 
not vanish without leaving stronger evidence for 
the truth. Now, as to these difficulties about Sa- 
tanic temptations, about the devil, and his agency 
with the mind, a man may say, it is inexplicable, 
incredible, not to be taken as strict history, but 
something figurative, a mythos. But suppose, in a 
really candid and inquiring frame of mind, this in- 
experienced man lights upon the personal history 
of Luther, or upon this thrilling story of Bunyan's 
temptations, a hundred years afterwards, is it not 
just as if he had found a medal, struck in the same 
sacred treasury where the words of scripture were 
engraven, with the very image of the devil on one 
side, and the inscription Satanic Tempter above 
it 1 And now ought not the difficulty to vanish for- 
ever 1 And are not discoveries like these of incal- 
culable importance to the believer in the evil hour 
of temptation 1 Yea, it is like Christian himself 
hearing a human voice before him in the Valley of 
the Shadow of Death, where it seemed as if no liv- 
ing creature ever could pass safely. 

Now, on this point there is a wonderful coinci- 



bunyan's temptattons. 79 

dence between the experience of men recorded in 
the Word of God, and those out of it ; and these 
two things illustrate each other. Take Job, for 
example. If a man say, this experience of Bun- 
yan is all a delusion, it is merely his own imagina- 
tion tormenting him, there never was or could be 
such a reality. We say, beware ; this experience 
of Bunyan has its original in the Word of God 
itself; it is countersigned, as it were, in Job's own 
history. Or if a man say, this experience of Job 
is figurative ; no man ever experienced such deal- 
ings in reality ; we say, so far from this, other men 
have experienced such discipline ; it is counter- 
signed, as it were, and illustrated, in the experience 
of a modern Christian. It is true, that in the ac- 
count of Job, the steps are marked by the Divine 
Hand ; but in the account of Bunyan, also, the steps 
are just as clear, with that single exception. They 
are almost as clear as if it had been said, as in the 
case of Job, There was a man in the land of Eng- 
land whom God would take and prepare for the 
greatest usefulness of all men living. And Satan 
said, let me take Bunyan, and I will tempt him from 
his integrity, and make him curse God, and deny 
his very being. And God said, let Satan try his 
uttermost upon this man, and the awful discipline 
shall only prepare him for greater usefulness and 
glory. So, Satan went forth, and by the space of 
two years filled the soul of Bunyan with distresses 
and temptations, and the fiery darts of the Wicked 
One. Is not this the very truth of the matter \ You 
may say, that with Job, Satan's temptations were 
all external, while with Bunyan they were mostly 



80 bdjnyan's temptations. 

inward. Yes, but let it be remembered that Job 
had a bosom companion, a treacherous, unbelieving, 
discontented wife, who would, in the place of the 
devil, do all the whisperings, and the blasphemous 
suggestions that were needed. Yea, while Job was 
passing through the valley of temptation, this 
woman was as a fiend at his ear, Curse God and die, 
to make it as the Vallev of the Shadow of Death ! 
Bunyan, on the other hand, had a godly wife, who 
would do no part of the work of the Tempter, but 
would shield her husband, and help him on to God. 
As to many matters the cases are wonderfully similar, 
especially if in Bunyan's imprisonment likewise you 
trace the malice of the devil, as assuredly you ought. 

Now, if you pass from the Old Testament to the 
New, the very experience of our blessed Lord at 
the very outset confirms this view. Before entering 
on his great work, he was led of the Spirit into the 
wilderness, to be tempted of the Devil ! 

To be tempted of the Devil ! And for what 
cause 1 What ineffable mystery is this ! Nay, it 
is indeed a mystery, and yet in part it is so brightly, 
so sweetly, so lovingly explained to us, that nothing 
could be more delightful to the soul than this very 
fact. Turn, then, in your Bibles, to those precious 
passages in the Epistle to the Hebrews, which ex- 
plain our blessed Lord's temptations, and the reason 
for them, and in some respects the manner of them. 
They tell us that it became Him, for whom are all 
things, and by whom are all things, in bringing 
many sons unto glory, to make the Captain of 
their salvation perfect through sufferings. And, 
therefore, as the children are partakers of flesh 



bunyan's temptations. 81 

and blood, he also himself took part in the same, 
that through death he might destroy him that had 
the power of death, that is, the devil. Wherefore, 
in all things it behooved him to be made like unto 
his brethren, that he might be a merciful and 
faithful High Priest, to make reconciliation for the 
sins of the people. For in that he himself hath 

SUFFERED, BEING TEMPTED, HE IS ABLE TO SUCCOR 

them that are tempted. Wherefore, people of 
God, rejoice ! For we have not an High Priest 
which cannot be touched with the feeling of our in- 
firmities, but was in all points tempted like as we 
are, yet without sin. Let tis, therefore, come boldly 
unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, 
and find grace to help in time of need. 

Now, is any further explanation needed than such 
a passage, so full of light, mercy, loveliness, in re- 
gard to that other passage, Then was Jesus led up 
of the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted of 
the devil ? And how could he be tempted with 
evil thoughts in any other way 1 They could not 
spring out of his own soul, for he was perfectly sin- 
less. They could not come from his own imagina- 
tion, for that imagination was invested with the 
splendors of Heaven. They could not be the 
ravings of lunacy ; for though, because of our 
Saviour's supremacy of goodness, because of the 
lightning of his countenance, his life, and his words 
against sin, and because of his irresistible power in 
casting out devils, his enemies asserted that he had 
a devil and was mad, yet no man now would dare 
the blasphemy. They could only come from the 
personal suggestions of the Evil One ; and thusjdid 

11 



82 bunyan's temptations. 

our blessed Lord take part in our temptations ; thus 
did that spotless being pass through a furnace of 
blasphemies and hell-born propositions, the very 
Valley of the Shadow of Death; and thus, at the 
very commencement of his ministry, did the Cap- 
tain of our salvation begin to be made perfect 
through sufferings. Nor is there in all his ministry, 
nor, I had almost said, even in his death upon the 
cross, a greater, more wonderful, more affecting 
proof of his boundless compassion and love. The 
spotless Son of God consenting, for our sakes, at 
the very entrance on his ministry, to pass through 
so revolting, so awful, so hideous an ordeal ; an 
ordeal ten thousand times worse to an infinitely 
holy mind than death itself! Consenting to be for 
forty days alone in the wilderness with Satan as a 
personal companion, with this blaspheming, daring, 
polluted, tortured fiend, dragon, devil, belching forth 
his hellish thoughts, and insulting our blessed Lord 
with the application even of sacred scripture ! All 
this for us ! that he might be in all points tempted 
like as we are, yet without sin ! Oh, who can tell 
the smallest part of the infinite goodness and con- 
descension of our Redeemer 1 

He was led up of the Spirit into the wilderness 
to be tempted of the devil. Now let me say, if 
you will read the opening of Milton's Paradise 
Regained, you will find there a marvellously proba- 
ble and beautiful description of the manner in 
which Satan would enter on this work of tempta- 
tion. Nor did his disappointment, and his utter 
discomfiture in it, prevent him from renewing it on 
the eminent disciples of our blessed Lord. There 



bunyan's temptations. 83 

were some of them, that, like Bunyan, were made 
to know the very "depths of Satan." There was 
Peter, of > whom our blessed Lord forewarned him, 
that Satan would try him to the utmost of his 
malignity and power. Simon, Simon, I say unto 
thee that Satan hath desired to have thee, that he 
may sift thee as wheat. Why ! this is the very 
renewal of the scene in the Old Testament in re- 
gard to Job. Let me but lay my hand, says this 
sarcastic and malignant devil, upon this Peter, this 
disciple so hot and zealous for his Lord and Master, 
and I will make him blaspheme his very Saviour. 
I will make him curse God and die. Yes ! and 
the devil did succeed in making him curse God ! 
Awful, awful truth ! Fearful revelation of the 
meaning of our Saviour in his warning to Peter, 
and of the dreadful power of this Tempter of man- 
kind ! But he did not succeed in making him "die, 
not in utterly putting out the light of faith and life 
within him. No, there again was Satan disap- 
pointed, and out of evil still was brought forth 
good. Bat why, how, by what agency? Ah, how 
beautiful, how precious is the explanation ! Simon, 
Simon, Satan hath desired to have thee, that he- 
may sift thee as wheat ; but I have prayed for thee, 
that thy faith fail not. So thou shalt yet be 
saved and strengthened, even though thou shalt 
deny thy Lord ; and when thou art converted, 
strengthen thy brethren ! Ah yes, that was the 
reason, I have prayed for thee. And what 
saint is there that Christ does not pray for ? So, 
if our trust be in him, we are all safe, but not other- 
wise. And now, who does not see that in Peter's 



84 bunyan's temptations. 

case, just as in Bunyan's, these dreadful storms of 
temptation were permitted to overwhelm him, that 
even out of that terrible experience, out sof those 
very "depths of Satan," the tempted and fallen 
disciple might gain a strength in the end, through 
the good Spirit of God, which not another of the 
brethren, except perhaps Paul, ever manifested. 
And hence you can trace in Peter's rich instructive 
epistles, a knowledge of the great adversary, and 
a warning and a vigilance against him, that sprung 
from Peter's own dreadful wrestlings with him. 
Yea those very blasphemies that Satan made Peter 
utter, turned out to be the most effective weapons, 
in remembrance, against himself. 

And now I should like to ask any man of com- 
mon sense to contemplate that striking declaration 
of our Lord to Peter, " Satan hath desired to have 
thee, that he may sift thee as wheat," and tell me in 
what possible way he would translate or interpret it, 
except as a manifest absurdity, without recognising 
the existence and agency of Fallen Spirits ? How, I 
say, shall we translate it, supposing it to mean merely 
an evil thought, impulse, principle of wickedness? 
Simon, Simon, I say unto thee, the principle of wick- 
edness hath desired to have thee that it may sift thee 
as wheat ! Could any thing be more ineffably ab- 
surd, paltering, emasculating, than such a mode of 
dealing with the Scriptures ? But why desire to re- 
sort to such absurdity ? Can any thing be more con- 
sistent, steadfast, and definite, than the voice of 
the whole Bible in regard to the personality and 
agency of Satan? In the very opening of the 
Word of God he comes before us in that awful 



bunyan's temptations. 85 

character, sustained ever since, as the Tempter of 
mankind, the Tempter, and by his dreadful power 
the conqueror of the .first Adam; and in the 
opening of the New Testament, the very first 
thing we see of him again is as the great Tempter 
of Mankind, in personal conflict with the Son of 
God, the Second Adam, to be by him thrown as 
lightning from heaven ; and his very weapons are 
those which he used with Bunyan, a diabolical 
perversion of the word of God itself, and a sugges- 
tion of devilish blasphemies. And then in the 
closing up of all revelation, the same accursed be- 
ing comes into view as che Dragon, the Serpent, 
the Devil and Satan, the Deceiver of the world, the 
Deceiver of the nations, the Tempter of mankind, 
the Accuser of our brethren ! 

I have referred you to the Temptation of our 
blessed Lord, and to that beautiful work of Milton, 
in which, with so much veri-similitude, the character 
and reflections of the devil, in entering on that work 
of temptation, are drawn before us. And I say, 
that Satan would be likely to make the same re- 
flections, and pursue the same measures, though 
on a smaller scale, whenever he saw men like 
Luther or Bunyan in such an attitude, under such 
a discipline, of such a make, that he might expect 
great danger to his own kingdom from their efforts. 
For it is characteristic of Satan, as of all the wick- 
ed, never to profit by his own experience ; and 
though all the evil he ever did, recoils, and ever 
must recoil, upon his own head, still he goes on 
doing it, providing materials for God to display his 
own glory, and out of evil still to bring forth 



86 bunyan's temptations. 

good. "Experience like the stern lights of a ship," 
only shows Satan the path that has been passed 
over, and on he goes, committing the same errors 
in crime again. 

Passing, now, in this argument, from our Lord's 
temptation to our Lord's prayer, we find there a 
distinct recognition of the Satanic Tempter ; "Lead 
us not into temptation, but deliver us from the 
Wicked One." This is one of the few passages 
in which our translation of the Scriptures, incom- 
parably excellent though it be, is peculiarly defec- 
tive, not rendering the power and full meaning of the 
original. There is another passage, equally unfor- 
tunate, where the translation, in the opinion of 
almost all commentators, ancient and modern, 
ought to be the Evil One, or the Wicked One, the 
same word being used as in our Lord's prayer : — 
" But the Lord is faithful, who shall establish you, 
and keep you from the Wicked One." (2 Thess. 
3 : 3.) And yet another passage in Ephesians, 
concerning which there cannot be a moment's 
doubt : " Above all taking the shield of faith, where- 
with ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of 
the Wicked One." (Ephes. 6 : 16.) And this is 
a passage in which the phrase fiery darts is wonder- 
fully expressive and powerful, being taken from the 
use in war of those slender arrows of cane, to which 
ignited combustible matter was attached, which, 
when shot, would set on fire wood-work, tents, 
whatever there was that would catch fire. Just so 
are the fiery darts of the Wicked One shot into the 
soul, or shot at the Christian, tipped, as it were, 
with damnation; and if there be wood, hay, stub- 



bunyan's temptations. 87 

ble, in a Christian's wcrks, instead of prayer, self- 
denial, labor for Christ, and in such a case these 
darts fall into the soul, then what a conflagration, 
perhaps what apostacy, what ruin, what death! 
Now in war it was the aim of persons so assailed 
to intercept and quench these burning arrows ; and 
a most nimble and powerful exercise in the use of 
the shield did it require ; and in the Christian war- 
fare, it is nothing but the Shield of Faith, and an 
equally nimble and dexterous use of it, that can 
defend the Christian. And this Bunyan found to 
his cost ; for his great adversary assailed him with 
a fierce fiery storm of those darts, when he had but 
very little faith ; and his very experience in the use 
of his shield he had to gain in his conflicts with the 
Enemy. Now if you compare these passages with 
some others; such as, "I would have come to you 
once and again, but Satan hindered me ;" " Lest 
Satan get an advantage of us, for we are not 
ignorant of his devices ;" " Lest by any means 
the Tempter may have tempted you, and our 
work be in vain ;" and other passages of the 
like character; you will see delineated in the 
Scriptures the features of that Fiend, who tempted 
Bunyan ; and you cannot doubt the meaning of 
the declaration that your adversary the devil goeth 
about as a roaring lion, seeking whom he may 
devour. 

Let it be marked that I have here confined 
myself to one class of passages in regard to Satan, 
those which present him in the character in which 
we have to do with him in the case of Bunyan. 
There are multitudes of passages, which I have 



88 bunyan's temptations. 

not touched, and shall not. In the revelation of 
St. John the devil is said to be concerned in throw- 
ing saints into prison, that they may be tried there ; 
and here is a new mark of identity between the 
adversary of Bunyan and the devil of the Scrip- 
tures ; and a new proof that in every age his wiles 
and stratagems are the same. I could easily fill 
a whole volume with arguments drawn from Scrip- 
ture, and another volume with proofs from expe- 
rience, on this subject. There is one point of im- 
portance in Bunyan's experience of the wiles of 
the devil, which I have not noticed, and that is, the 
great advantage which early habits of sin give to 
the Tempter against our own souls. Perhaps we 
may note this in the case of Peter, in the readiness 
with which Satan could fill his mouth with profane- 
ness in the recurrence of what were probably his 
oaths as a youthful passionate fisherman. You 
may note it much more clearly in the case of Bun- 
yan, who used to swear so dreadfully in his child- 
hood, so that when the devil in his manhood 
tempted him with blasphemies, he had a powerful 
advantage over him. God indeed often uses a 
man's own sins to be terrible scourges to him ; and 
in this is realized what is said in Jeremiah, Thine 
own wickedness shall correct thee, and thy back- 
slidings shall reprove thee ; know therefore and 
see that it is an evil and bitter thing that thou hast 
forsaken the Lord thy God. The truth of this 
Bunyan found to his great cost under the assaults 
of the Tempter, opening anew the sluices of his 
youthful wickedness. 



BUNYAN'S EXAMINATION 



Bunyan's use of his temptations. — The gloom, of his mind in the early part of his 
imprisonment. — His faithfulness to Christ in the midst of it. — His perfect disin- 
terestedness. — His little blind daughter. — Relation of his examination and impri- 
sonment. — That old enemy Dr. Lindale. — Bunyan's admirable answers and 
Christian deportment.— The nature and preciousness of religious liberty. — Parable 
by Dr. Franklin. 

There never was a man, who made better use 
of his temptations, especially the temptations by his 
Great Adversary, than Bunyan. In the preface to 
his Grace Abounding, addressed to those whom 
God had counted him worthy to bring to the Re- 
deemer by his ministry, he says, " I have sent you 
here enclosed a drop of the honey, that I have 
taken out of the carcass of a lion. I have eaten 
thereof myself, and am much refreshed thereby. 
Temptations, when we meet them at first,- are as 
the lion that roared upon Samson ; but if we over- 
come them, the next time we see them we shall find 
a nest of honey within them." Nor was there ever 
a man who traced the parental care, tenderness and 
goodness of God more clearly, or with more gratitude 
in those temptations, the designs of God in suffering 
such things to befall him, and the manner in which 
those designs were accomplished. It was for 

12 



90 bunyan's examination. 

this Bnnyan said, that God suffered him to lay 
so long at Sinai, to see the fire, and the cloud, 
and the darkness, " that I might fear the Lord 
all the days of my life upon earth, and tell of his 
wondrous works to my children." 

It was in the calm, clear light of heaven, in the 
light of Divine Mercy to his rescued soul, that Bun- 
yan remembered his ways, his journeyings, the 
desert and the wilderness, the Rock that followed 
him, and the Manna that fed him. " Thou shalt 
remember all the ways which the Lord thy God led 
thee these forty years in the wilderness, to humble 
thee, and prove thee, and to know what was in thine 
heart, whether thou wouldst keep his command- 
ments or no." The grace of God was above Bun- 
yan's sins, and Satan's temptations too ; he could 
remember his fears and doubts and sad months with 
comfort ; they were " as the head of Goliah in his 
hand." He sang of God's grace as the children of 
Israel, with the Red Sea between them and the land 
of their enemies. 

It is not to be supposed that the temptations of 
Satan departed entirely from Bunyan when he 
was thrown into prison. On the contrary, he 
was for a time assailed through the same spirit 
of unbelief, of which his Adversary had made such 
fearful use, when he was passing through the Valley 
of Humiliation, and of the Shadow of Death. It was 
in the early part of his imprisonment, when he was 
in a sad and low condition for many weeks. A pretty 
business, he says it was ; for he thought his im- 
prisonment might end at the gallows, and if it did, 
and he should be so afraid to die when the time 



bunyan's examination. 91 

came, and so destitute rf all evidence of prepara- 
tion for a better state hereafter, what could he do ! 
These thoughts, revolved in his mind in various 
shapes, greatly distressed him. He was afraid of 
dishonoring his Saviour, and though he prayed 
earnestly for strength, yet no comfort came ; and 
the only encouragement he could get was this ; that 
he should doubtless have an opportunity to speak 
to the great multitudes that would come to see 
him die, and if God would but use his last words 
for the conversion of one single soul, he would not 
count his life thrown away nor lost. How de- 
lightful is the evidence of Bunyan's disinterested- 
ness, forgetfulness of self, and love to souls, even 
in the darkness and distress of his sore spiritual 
conflicts ! 

But still the things of God were kept out of his 
sight, and still the Tempter followed hard upon 
him ; a desperate foe, and able still at times to 
overwhelm Bunyan's soul with anguish, although 
there remained only the hinder part of the tempest, 
and the thunder was gone beyond him. " Whither 
must you go when you die V was the gloomy, 
moody, sullen question of unbelief in Bunyan's soul 
beneath his temptation, What will become of you 1 
Where will you be found in another world ? 
What evidence have you for heaven and glory, and 
an inheritance among them that are sanctified 1 
For many weeks poor Bunyan knew not what to 
do ; till at length it came to him with great power, 
that at all events, it being for the word and way of 
God that he was in this condition of danger, per- 
haps in the path of death, he was engaged not to 



92 BUNYANS EXAMINATION. 

flinch an hair's breadth from it. Bunyan thought, 
furthermore, that it was for God to choose whether 
he would give him comfort then, or in the hour of 
death, or whether he would or would not give him 
comfort in either, comfort at all ; but it was not for 
Bunyan to choose whether to serve God or not, 
whether to hold fast his profession or not, for to this 
he was bound. He was bound, but God was free ; 
" Yea," says he, " it was my duty to stand to his 
word, whether he would ever look upon me, or 
save me at the last, or not ; wherefore, thought 
I, the point being thus, I am for going on, and ven- 
turing my eternal state with Christ, whether I have 
comfort here or no. If God doth not come in, 
thought I, I will leap off the ladder even blind- 
fold into eternity ; sink or swim, come heaven, 
come hell. Lord Jesus, if thou wilt catch me, do ; 
if not, I will venture for thy name !" 

Well done, noble Bunyan ! Faithful even unto 
death, and faithful even in darkness ! Here was no 
imaginary temptation to sell thy Saviour, but a real 
inducement, by relinquishing thy confession of the 
truth, to escape from prison and from death ; a 
temptation accompanied by dreadful darkness in thy 
soul. And yet, amidst it all, he ventured every 
thing upon Christ, yea, determined to die for him, 
even though rejected by him ! Was not this a noble 
triumph over the Tempter 1 One would think that 
from this hour he would have left Bunyan in utter 
despair, yea, that he would have spread his dragon- 
wings, and Bunyan have seen him no more forever! 
And this indeed I believe that he did ; for so soon 
as Bunyan had come to this noble and steadfast re- 



BUNYAN S EXAMINATION. 93 

solution, the word of the Tempter flashed across 
his soul, Doth Job serve God for nought I Hast 
thou not made an hedge about him. He serves 
God for benefits. Ah, thought Bunyan, then, 
even in the opinion of Satan, a man who will 
serve God when there is nothing to keep or to. 
gain by it, is a renewed man, an upright man. Now, 
Satan, thou givest me a weapon against thyself. 
" Is this the sign of a renewed soul, to desire to 
serve God, when all is taken from him \ Is he a 
godly man that will serve God for nothing, rather 
than give out ? Blessed be God, then, I hope I have 
an upright heart ; for I am resolved, God giving 
me strength, never to deny my profession, though I 
had nothing at all for my pains." 

Here was a second fight with Apollyon, and a 
conquest of him forever. Bunyan's perplexities, 
after this, were but as drops from the trees after 
a thunder-shower. He greatly rejoiced in this 
trial. It made his heart to be full of comfort, be- 
cause he hoped it proved his heart sincere. And 
indeed it did ; a man that resolves to serve Christ, 
come heaven, come hell, shows, whatever be his 
darkness, that God is with him ; and Bunyan's 
noble resolution, amidst such deep gloom over 
his soul, was a remarkable instance of obedience 
to that word of God by the prophet, "Who is 
among you that feareth the Lord, that obeyeth 
the voice of his servant, that walketh in darkness 
and hath no light 1 Let him trust in the name of 
the Lord, and stay upon his God." Bunyan could 
now say, in a passage in the forty -fourth Psalm, 
brought powerfully to remembrance, " Though 



94 bunyan's examination. 

thou hast sore broken us in the place of dragons, 
and covered us with the shadow of death, yet our 
heart is not turned back, neither have our steps de- 
clined from thy way." This indeed, is the truest 
bign of conversion, to venture all on Christ, and re- 
solve to serve him come what may. 

When a soul comes to this determination, it al- 
ways finds light. And so it was with Bunyan ; and 
he says himself, " I would not have been without 
this trial for much. I am comforted every time I 
think of it ; and I hope I shall bless God forever 
for the teaching I have had by it." In this trial, 
Bunyan may in truth be said to have been added to 
the number of the witnesses in the Revelations, 
who overcame the Tempter by the blood of the 
Lamb, and the word of their testimony ; and they 
loved not their lives unto the death. For Bunyan 
was as if he had been brought to the scaffold, and 
there taken the leap into eternity in the dark. 
This passage in Bunyan's prison experience re- 
minds us powerfully of Christian's woful confine- 
ment in the dungeon of Giant Despair's castle from 
Wednesday morning till Saturday night, and of his 
sudden and joyful deliverance ; nor can there be any 
doubt that some of the lights and shades in that beau- 
tiful passage grew out of those melancholy weeks, 
when Bunyan's soul as well as his body, was in prison. 
Afterwards, his soul was unfettered, and then what 
cared he for the confinement of his body 1 He 
could say, in an infinitely higher sense than some 
of his enemies in the celebrated song of his times, 

" Stone walls do not a prison make, 
Nor iron bars a cage ; 
Minds innocent and quiet take 
That for a hermitage." 



bunyan's examination. 95 

In Bunyan's prison meditations, he describes 
most forcibly, in his own rude but vigorous rhymes, 
the freedom and triumph of his soul. 

" For though men keep my outward man 
Within their locks and bars, 
Yet by the faith of Christ I can 
Mount higher than the stars. 

'Tis not the baseness of this state 

Doth hide us from God's face ; 
He frequently, both soon and late, 

Doth visit us with grace. 

We change our drossy dust for gold, 

From death to life we fly ; 
We let go shadows, and take hold 

Of immortality. 

These be the men that God doth count 

Of high and noble mind ; 
These be the men that do surmount 

What you in nature find. 

First they do conquer their own hearts, 

All worldly fears, and then 
Also the Devil's fiery darts, 

And persecuting men. 

They conquer when they thus do fall, 

They kill when they do die ; 
They overcome then most of all, 

And get the victory." 

Such poetry would have been noble, from any man 
of genius, but it came from Bunyan's heart ; it was 
his own experience. "I never had in my life," he 
says, " so great an inlet into the word as now. 
Those scriptures that I saw nothing in before, are 
made in this place and state to shine upon me. 
Jesus Christ also was never more real and appa- 
rent than now ; here I have seen and felt him in- 
deed." Three or four sweet and thrilling scrip- 
tures were a great refreshment to him, especially 
that sweet fourteenth of John, " Let not your 
heart be troubled," &c, and that of John xvi. 33, 



96 bunyan's examination. 

" In the world ye shall have tribulation, but be of 
good cheer ; I have overcome the world ;" and also 
that inspiring, animating word, " We are come un- 
to Mount Sion," &c. Sometimes, when Bunyan 
was " in the savor" of these scriptures, he was able 
to laugh at destruction, and to fear neither the horse 
nor his rider. " I have had sweet sights of the 
forgiveness of my sins in this place, and of my 
being with Jesus in another world. O the Mount 
Sion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innumerable 
company of angels, and God the Judge of all, and 
the spirits of just men made perfect, and Jesus the 
Mediator, have been sweet unto me in this place ! 
I have seen that here, which I am persuaded I shall 
never, while in this world, be able to express. I have 
seen a truth in this scripture, " Whom having not 
seen ye love ; in whom, though now you see him 
not, yet believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeakable, 
and full of glory." 

" I never knew what it was for God to stand by 
me at all times, and at every offer of Satan to af- 
flict me, as I have found him since I came in hither ; 
for look how fears have presented themselves, so 
have supports and encouragements ; yea, when I 
have started even as it were at nothing else but my 
shadow, yet God, as being very tender of me, hath 
not suffered me to be molested, but would, with one 
scripture or another, strengthen me against all, 
insomuch that I have often said, were it lawful, 
1 could pray for geater trouble for the greater com- 
fort's sake." Bunyan could now say with Paul, 
that as his sufferings for Christ abounded, so his 
consolation in Christ abounded likewise. 



bunyan's examination. 97 

Bunyan had thought nuch upon these things be- 
fore he went to prison ; for he saw the storm coming, 
and had some preparatory considerations " warm 
upon his heart." Like a prudent, skilful, fearless 
mariner, he took in sail at the signs of the hur- 
ricane, and made all tight aloft, by prayer, and by 
consideration of the things which are unseen and 
eternal. He kept on his course, turning neither to 
the right hand nor the left, in his Master's ser- 
vice, but he made all ready for the tempest, and 
familiarized himself to the worst that might come, 
be it the prison, the pillory, or banishment, or 
death. With a magnanimity and grandeur of philo- 
sophy which none of the princes or philosophers, or 
sufferers of this world ever dreamed of, he con- 
cluded that " the best way to go through suffering, 
is to trust in God through Christ as touching the 
world to come ; and as touching this world to be 
dead to it, to give up all interest in it, to have the sen- 
tence of death in ourselves and admit it, to count the 
grave my house, to make my bed in darkness, and 
to say to corruption, thou art my father ; and to the 
worm, thou art my mother and sister ; that is, to 
familiarize these things to me." 

With this preparation, when the storm suddenly 
fell, though the ship at first bowed and labored hea- 
vily under it, yet how like a bird did she afterwards 
flee before it. It reminds me of those two lines of 
Wesley, 

" The tempests that rise, 
Shall gloriously hurry our souls to the skies !' 

So Bunyan's bark sped onward, amidst howling 
gales, with rattling hail and thunder, but onward, 
still onward, and upward, still upward, to heaven ! 

13 



98 bunyan's examination. 

There is one passage in his experience at this 
time, which is deeply affecting, as showing what 
he had to break from and to leave, and in what 
difficult circumstances, as well as to encounter, in 
going to prison, and perhaps to death. " Notwith- 
standing these spiritual helps," he says, " I found 
myself a man encompassed with infirmities. The 
parting with my wife and poor children hath often 
been to me, in this place, as the pulling the flesh 
from my bones ; and that not only because I am 
somewhat too fond of these mercies ; but also 
because I should have often brought to my mind 
the many hardships, miseries and wants that my 
poor family was likewise to meet with ; especially 
my poor blind child, who lay nearer my heart than 
all I had beside. Oh, the thoughts of the hardships 
I thought my blind one might go under, would 
break my heart to pieces. Poor child, thought I, 
what sorrow art thou like to have for thy portion in 
this world ! Thou must be beaten, must beg, suffer 
hunger, cold, nakedness, and a thousand calami- 
ties, though I cannot now endure the wind shall 
blow upon thee ! But yet, recalling myself, 
thought I, I must venture you all with God, though 
it goeth to the quick to leave you. Oh, I saw in 
this condition I was as a man who is pulling down 
his house upon the head of his wife and children ; 
yet, thought I, I must do it, I must do it. And now, 
I thought on those two milch kine, that were to 
carry the ark of God into another country, to leave 
their calves behind them." 

Nothing could be more touching than this art- 
less picture of Bunyan's domestic tenderness, es- 



bunyan's examination. 99 

pecially of the father's affection for his poor 
blind child. If any thing could have tempted him 
from duty; if any thing could have allured him to 
conform against his conscience, it had been this. 
But the Scriptures and the love of Christ supported 
him ; and he who could venture to die for Christ, 
even while his soul was in darkness, could also 
trust in the promise, "Leave thy fatherless chil- 
dren ; I will preserve them alive ; and let thy 
widow trust in me. Verily, it shall go well with thy 
remnant." So, by divine grace, Bunyan overcame 
this temptation also. 

And now, having followed this instructive picture 
of Bunyan's conflicts, partly while under fear of 
prison and of death, laying our tracery, as it were, 
over his own deeply engraven lines, to make it 
accurate, we come next to his own account of his 
commitment, which is one of the most humorous, 
characteristic, and instructive pieces in the English 
language. This is not to be found in the " Grace 
Abounding," but stands by itself in a tract en- 
titled, " A Relation of the Imprisonment of Mr. 
John Bunyan, Minister of the Gospel at Bedford, in 
November, 1660 ; his Examination before the Jus- 
tices ; his Conference with the Clerk of the Peace ; 
what passed between the Judges and his Wife, 
when she presented a Petition for his Deliverance, 
and so forth. Written by himself." " I was 
indicted," says Bunyan, " for an upholder and 
maintainer of unlawful assemblies and conventi- 
cles, and for not conforming to the national wor- 
ship of the Church of England ; and after some 
conference there with the justices, they taking my 



100 bunyan's examination. 

plain dealing with them for a confession, as they 
termed it, of the indictment, did sentence me to a 
perpetual banishment, because I refused to conform. 
So being again delivered up to the jailor's hands, I 
was had home to prison, and there have lain now 
complete twelve years, waiting to see what God 
would suffer these men to do with me" 

It is a striking phraseology, which Bunyan 
uses, he " was had home to prison ;" it was indeed 
a home to him, for God made it such, sweeter, by 
divine grace, than any earthly home in his pil- 
grimage. He had been preaching for years when 
he was first taken, which was upon the 12th of 
November, 1660. He had engaged, if the Lord 
permitted, to come and teach some of the people 
who desired it on that day ; but the justice of the 
peace hearing of it, issued his warrant to take 
Bunyan, and mean time to keep a strong watch 
about the house, " as if," says Bunyan, " we that 
were to meet together in that place, did intend 
to do some fearful business, to the destruction of 
the country." Yea they could scarce have been 
more alarmed and vigilant, if there had been ru- 
mor of a Popish gunpowder plot on foot. " When, 
alas ! the constable, when he came in, found us 
only with our Bibles in our hands, ready to speak 
and hear the word of God ; for we were just about 
to begin our exercise. Nay, we had begun in 
prayer for the blessing of God upon our oppor- 
tunity, intending to have preached the word of the 
Lord unto them there present ; but the constable 
coming in, prevented us." 

Bunyan might have escaped had he chosen, for 



bunyan's examination. 101 

he had fair warning, but he reasoned nobly, that as 
he had showed himself hearty and courageous in 
his preaching, and made it his business to encourage 
others, if he should now run, his weak and newly 
converted brethren would certainly think he was 
not so strong in deed as in word. " Also, I feared 
that if I should run, now that there was a warrant 
out for me, I might, by so doing, make them afraid 
to stand, when great words only should be spoken 
to them. Besides, I thought that seeing God of 
his mercy should choose me to go upon the forlorn 
hope in this country ; that is, to be the first that 
should be opposed for the gospel ; if I should fly, 
it might be a discouragement to the whole body that 
might follow after. And further, I thought the world 
thereby would take occasion at my cowardliness to 
have blasphemed the gospel, and to have had some 
grounds to suspect worse of me and my profession 
than I deserved." So Bunyan staid, with full resolu- 
tion, and began the meeting. And when brought 
before the justice, and questioned as to what he did 
there, and why he did not content himself with fol- 
lowing his calling, for it was against the law that 
such as he should be admitted to do as he did ; 
he answered, that the intent of his. coming thither, 
and to other places, was to instruct and counsel 
people to forsake their sins, and close in with Christ, 
lest they did miserably perish, and that he could do 
both these without confusion, to wit, follow his 
calling, and preach the word also. 

" Now," says Bunyan, in a passage where you 
have the germ of many a character that afterwards 
figured in the pages of the Pilgrim's Progress, 



102 bunyan's examination. 

" Now, while my mittimus was a making, the jus- 
tice was withdrawn, and in comes an old enemy to 
the truth, Dr. Lindale, who when he was come in, 
fell to taunting at me, with many reviling terms. 
To whom I answered, that I did not come thither 
to talk with him, but with the justice. Whereat he 
supposing that I had nothing to say for myself, tri- 
umphed as if he had got the victory, charging and 
condemning me for meddling with that for which I 
could show no warrant, and asked me if I had 
taken the oaths, and if I had not, it was pity but 
that I should be sent to prison. I told him that 
if I was minded, I could answer to any sober 
question put to me. He then urged me again, 
how I could prove it lawful for me to preach, 
with a great deal of confidence of the victory. But 
at last, because he should see that I could answer 
him if I listed, I cited to him that in Peter, which 
saith, " As every man hath received the gift, even so 
let him minister the same." 

Lindale. Ay, saith he, to whom is that spoken 1 

Bunyan. To whom, said I, why, to every man 
that hath received a gift from God. Mark, saith 
the apostle, as every man hath received the gift 
from God ; and again, You may all prophesy one 
by one. Whereat the man was a little stopt, and 
went a softlier pace. But not being willing to lose 
the day, he began again, and said : 

Lind. Indeed, I do remember that I have read 
of one Alexander, a copper-smith, who did much 
oppose and disturb the apostles : (aiming, it is like, 
at me, because I was a tinker.) 

Bun. To which I answered, that I also had read 



bunyan's examination. 103 

of very many priests anJ Pharisees, that had their 
hands in the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ. 

Lind. Ay saith he, and you are one of those 
Scribes and Pharisees, for you, with a pretence, 
make long prayers to devour widows' houses. 

Bun. I answered, that if he got no more by 
preaching and praying than I had done, he would 
not be so rich as now he was. But that scripture 
coming into my mind, " Answer not a fool accord- 
ing to his folly," I was as sparing of my speech 
as I could without prejudice to truth. 

After this there was another examination with 
one Mr. Foster, of Bedford, who tried hard to per- 
suade Bunyan to promise that he would leave off 
preaching, in which case he should be acquitted. 
Bunyan's honest, straight-forward truth, good sense 
and mother-wit, answered as good a purpose with 
this Mr. Foster, as it did with that " old enemy," Dr. 
Lindale. Mr. Foster told Bunyan there were none 
that heard him but a company of foolish people. 

Bun. I told him that there were the wise as 
well as the foolish that did hear me ; and again, 
those that are most commonly counted foolish by 
the world, are the wisest before God. Also, that 
God had rejected the wise and mighty and noble, 
and chosen the foolish and the base. 

Foster. He told me that I made people neglect 
their calling ; and that God hath commanded peo- 
ple to work six days, and serve him on the seventh. 

Bun. I told him that it was the duty of people, 
rich and poor, to look out for their souls on those 
days, as well as their bodies ; and that God would 
have his people exhort one another daily, while it 
is called to-day. 



104 bunyan's examination. 

Fost. He said again, that there were none but 
a company of poor, simple, ignorant people that 
came. 

Bun. I told him that the foolish and the igno- 
rant had most need of teaching and information ; 
and therefore it would be profitable for me to go on 
in that work. 

Fost. Well, said he, to conclude, but will you 
promise that you will not call the people together any 
more, and then you maybe released and go home. 

Bun. I told him that I durst say no more than I 
had said ; for I durst not leave off that work which 
God had called me to. If my preaching might 
be said to call the people together, I durst not say 
that I would not call them together. 

Foster upon this told the justice that he must 
send Bunyan to prison ; and so to prison he went, 
nothing daunted, but singing and making melody 
in his heart unto the Lord. After this follows an 
inimitably rich and humorous dialogue, which Bun- 
yan called, The Sum of my Examination before 
Justice Keelin, Justice Chester, Justice Blundale, 
Justice Beecher and Justice Snagg. These men's 
names are immortalized in a way they never 
dreamed of; nor can any one read this scene, 
and compare it with the trial of Faithful in the 
Pilgrim's Progress, and not see what rich ma- 
terials Bunyan was now gathering, in the provi- 
dence of God, out of his own experience, for his 
future work. These persons are just as certainly 
to be detected in Bunyan's sketches of the court, 
in the town of Vanity Fair, as Sancho Panza 
whenever he appears in any part of Don Quixote. 



bunyan's examination. 105 

It was an almost unconscious operation of quiet, but 
keen satire, when this scene remoulded its materials 
afterwards in Bunyan's imagination. The extent 
of the indictment against Bunyan was as follows : 
That John Bunyan, of the town of Bedford, 
laborer, being a person of such and such conditions, 
he hath, since such a time, devilishly and perni- 
ciously abstained from coming to church to hear 
divine service, and is a common upholder of 
several unlawful meetings and conventicles, to the 
great disturbance and distraction of the good sub- 
jects of this kingdom, contrary to the laws of our 
sovereign Lord the King. When this was read, the 
clerk of the sessions said to Bunyan, What say you 
to this 1 

Bunyan. I said that as to the first part of it, I 
w r as a common frequenter of the church of God, 
and was also by grace, a member with those people, 
over whom Christ was the head. 

Keelin. But, saith Justice Keelin, who was the 
judge in that court, Do you come to church, you 
know what I mean, to the parish church to hear 
divine service 1 

Bun. I answered no, I did not. 

Keel. He asked me why. 

Bun. I said, because I did not find it commanded 
in the word of God. 

Keel. He said we were commanded to pray. 

Bun. I said, but not by the Common Prayer 
Book. 

Keel. He said, how then ? 

Bun. I said, with the Spirit. As the apostle 
saith, I will pray with the Spirit with understanding. 

14 



106 bunyan's examination. 

Keel. He said, we might pray with the Spirit with 
understanding, and with the Common Prayer Book 
also. 

Bun. I said that those prayers in the Common 
Prayer Book were such as were made by other 
men, and not by the motions of the Holy Ghost 
within our hearts ; and, as I said, the apostle saith 
he will pray with the Spirit and with under- 
standing, not with the Spirit and the Common 
Prayer Book. 

Another Justice.. What do you count prayer? 
Do you think it is to say a few words over, 
before or among a people ? 

Bun. I said not so ; for men might have many 
elegant or excellent words, and yet not pray at all ; 
but when a man prayeth, he doth, through a sense 
of those things which he wants, which sense is be- 
gotten by the Spirit, pour out his heart before God 
through Christ ; though his words be not so many 
and so excellent as others. 

Justices. They said that was true. 

Bun. I said this might be done without the Com- 
mon Prayer Book. 

There was a strange mixture of candor and 
bitterness, in these justices, for they acknow- 
ledged the truth of some things that Bunyan 
said, and that very freely, while they were blas- 
phemous in other things, as we shall see. Bun- 
yan's own argument agamst the Common Prayer 
Book would not be admitted as valid by many 
out of the Episcopal Church as well as in it ; but 
his argument against the enforcing of it on the 
conscience is incontrovertible, as welL as his own 



bunyan's examination. 107 

candid and tolerant spirit towards those who pre- 
ferred to use it. " Let them use it, if they choose," 
said he, "we would not keep them from it ; only, 
for our part, we can pray to God without it ; 
and all we ask is the liberty of so praying and 
preaching." Could any thing be more fair, equi- 
table or generous than this I The same we say 
now to those who assert, that we cannot worship 
God aright without episcopacy, confirmation and a 
liturgy, and who arrogantly say that without these 
things we are not of the true church, and are 
neither ministers nor flocks of Jesus Christ ; we 
say to those who are guilty of such unchristian 
conduct, Use you your liturgy, and love it as much 
as you please, and we will agree with you, that for 
those who choose a liturgy, it is, with some great 
faults, an admirable composition ; but, dare not to 
impose it upon us ; be not guilty of the great in- 
tolerance and wickedness of unchurching and ana- 
thematizing others, because they do not use a 
liturgy nor hold to episcopacy ; stand not by your- 
selves and say, I am holier than thou by the apos- 
tolical succession, and episcopacy, and the liturgy ! 
Above all, if you do these things, expect to be 
met with severity and indignation, and accuse no 
man of bitterness, who defends, or because he de- 
fends the church and the ministry of Christ from 
your unrighteous assumptions. 

Bunyan's chief reason for not using the Common 
Prayer Book was, that it is not commanded in the 
scriptures. " Show me," said he, " the place in 
the epistles, where the Common Prayer Book is 
written, or one text of scripture that commands 



108 bunyan's examination. 

me to read it, and I will use it. But yet, notwith- 
standing, said he, they that have a mind to use it, 
they have their liberty ; that is, I would not keep 
it from them, or them from it ; but for our parts, 
we can pray to God without it. Blessed be his 
name. 

With that one of them said, Who is your God, 
Beelzebub 1 Moreover they often said that I was 
possessed with the spirit of delusion and of the 
devil. All which sayings I passed over, the Lord 
forgive them ! And further, I said, Blessed be the 
Lord for it, we are encouraged to meet together, 
and to pray, and exhort one another : for we have 
had the comfortable presence of God among us, 
forever blessed be his holy name. 

Justice Keelin called this pedler's French, say- 
ing that I must leave off my canting. The Lord 
open his eyes. 

Bun. I said that we ought to exhort one another 
daily, while it is called to-day. 

Keel. Justice Keelin said that I ought not to 
preach ; and asked me where I had my authority 1 

Bun. I said that I would prove that it was 
lawful for me, and such as I am, to preach the 
word of God. 

Keel. He said unto me, By what scripture 1 

Bun. I said, By that in the first epistle of 
Peter, the fourth chapter, the eleventh verse ; and 
Acts the eighteenth, with other scriptures, which 
he would not suffer me to mention. But hold, 
said he, not so many ; which is the first? 

Bun. I said this : " As every man hath received 
the gift, so let him minister the same one to ano- 



bunyan's examination. 109 

ther, as good stewards of the manifold grace of 
God ; if any man speak, let him speak as the 
oracles of God." 

Keel. He said, Let me a little open that scripture 
to you. As every man hath received the gift ; that 
is, said he, as every man hath received a trade, so 
let him follow it. If any man hath received a gift 
of tinkering, as thou hast done, let him follow his 
tinkering ; and so other men their trades, and the 
divine his calling, &c. 

Bun. Nay, sir, said I, but it is most clear that 
the apostle speaks here of preaching the word ; 
if you do but compare ooth the verses together, 
the next verse explains this gift, what it is ; saying, 
" If any man speak, let him speak as the oracles of 
God ;" so that it is plain that the Holy Ghost doth 
not, in this place, so much exhort to civil callings, 
as to the exercising of those gifts that we have 
received from God. I would have gone on, but he 
would not give me leave. 

Keel. He said, we might do it in our families, 
•but not otherwise. 

Bun. I said, if it was lawful to do good to 
some, it was lawful to do good to more. If it was 
a good duty to exhort our families, it is good to 
exhort others; but if they hold it a sin to meet 
together to seek the face of God, and exhort one 
another to follow Christ, I should sin still, for so we 
should do. 

Keel. Then you confess the indictment, do yon 
not? 

Bun. This I confess, we have had many meet- 
ings together, both to pray to God, and to exhort 



110 bunyan's examination. 

one another, and that we had the sweet comforting 
presence of the Lord among us, for our encourage- 
ment, blessed be his name therefor. I confess 
myself guilty no otherwise. 

Keel. Then, said he, hear your judgment. You 
must be had back again to prison, and there lie 
for three months following ; and at three months' 
end, if you do not submit to go to church to hear 
divine service, and leave your preaching, you must 
be banished the realm ; and if, after such a day 
as shall be appointed you to be gone, you shall 
be found in this realm, or be found to come over 
again without special license from the king, you 
must stretch by the neck for it, I tell you plainly. 
And so he bid my jailer have me away. 

Bun. I told him, as to this matter I was at a 
point with him ; for if I was out of prison to-day, I 
would preach the gospel again to morrow, by the 
help of God. 

Thus ended the examination and commitment 
of John Bunyan. This answer of his is equal 
in nobleness to any thing recorded of Luther. If 

I WAS OUT OF THE PRISON TO-DAY, I WOULD PREACH 
THE GOSPEL AGAIN TO-MORROW, BY THE HELP OF 

God. There was neither obstinacy nor vain-glory 
in it, but a calm, steadfast determination to obey 
God rather than man. Bunyan had good ex- 
amples for his steadfastness and courage. The 
scene reminds us more than almost any thing 
else, of certain events in the Acts of the Apostles. 
What shall we do to these men, said the Jewish 
rulers. That it spread no further among the 
people, let us straitly threaten them, that they 



bunyan's examination. Ill 

speak henceforth to no man in this name. And 
they called them, and commanded them not to 
speak at all, nor teach in the name of Jesus. But 
Peter and John answered and said unto them, 
Whether it be right in the sight of God to hearken 
unto you more than unto God, judge ye. For we 
cannot but speak the things which we have seen 
and heard. And again they spake ; and again 
they were thrust into prison ; and again they spake ; 
and again the council and high priest charged them, 
Did we not straitly command you that ye should 
not teach in this name ? So they beat the apostles, 
and commanded that they should not speak in the 
name of Jesus, and let them go. And what next 1 
Why, just this : And daily in the temple, and. in 
every house, they ceased not to teach, and to preach 
Jesus Christ. 

In all these trying and vexing examinations, 
Bunyan appears to the greatest advantage, both as 
a man and a Christian. If he sometimes answered 
a fool according to his folly, it was never with 
railing or bitterness ; and with all his prejudices 
against the Common Prayer Book, he has not one 
word to say against those who choose it, or con- 
scientiously use it, or against their religion. And 
now, to those who may think it strange that so 
strong a prejudice should have prevailed against that 
book, so that men would rather go to prison than 
use it, we would simply say, W^hat think you would 
be your feelings in regard to the Presbyterian 
Book of Discipline, if you were compelled by law 
to use it, and abide by it, or else have no religion at 
all ? If the strong grasp of civil and ecclesiastical 



112 bunyan's examination. 

tyranny were laid upon you, and your face were 
pressed in the dust beneath that book, and it were 
said to you, Either abide by this and obey it, or 
you shall neither preach nor teach, nor hold any 
civil office ; nay, you shall be thrust into prison, or 
banished, and if found returning, you shall be 
hanged by the neck till you are dead ! I say, 
what think you would be your feelings towards that 
book ? Why, if it were better than the Pilgrim's 
Progress itself, you would abhor it, and I had al- 
most said, you would do well to hate it ; and you 
would, as an instrument of pride and tyranny. 
Prejudice against the Common Prayer Book! If 
men wish to bring it into disgrace, let them per- 
severe in their assumption that there is no true 
church, and no true ministry without it. The cross 
itself, the moment you erect it into a thing of wor- 
ship, the moment you put the image in place of 
the thing signified, becomes an idol, a mark of sin 
instead of glory. Just so it was with the Brazen 
Serpent. There was a race of Romanists in that 
day, who kept it as an object of idolatrous ado- 
ration ; had they been let go on in their absurdities, 
they would have passed a law that no person should 
worship without the Brazen Serpent. But good 
King Hezekiah, the noble old royal image-breaker, 
took, it, and called it with the utmost contempt, a 
piece of brass, Nehustan, and burned it in the fire, 
and ground it to powder. 

Here I am reminded of a very beautiful remark by 
Mr. Coleridge, taken partly from an old writer, that 
an appropriate and seemly religious ceremony is as 
a gold chain about the neck of faith ; it at once 



bunyan's examination. 113 

adorns and secures it. Yes, says Mr. Coleridge, 
but if you draw it too close, you strangle it. You 
strangle and destroy religion if you make that which 
is not essential, and especially that which is not 
commanded in scripture, to be essential and inevi- 
table. And just so with the prayer book, the litur- 
gy ; if you seek to enforce it on men's consciences, 
if you make it essential to religion or to the true 
church, you suffocate and strangle your religion, 
and instead of finding in it a living seraph, it will 
be to you a dead corpse. Let no man judge you in 
regard to these things, saith Paul ; let no man be 
admitted to spy out and destroy your liberty, which 
ye have in Christ Jesus. Give no place in subjec- 
tion to such an one, no, not for an hour. 

One of the most instructive and important les- 
sons to be drawn from this part of Bunyan's his- 
tory, and from the survey of his times, is the inva- 
luable preciousness of that discipline of trial, which 
God, in infinite wisdom and mercy, has appointed 
for his people, as their pathway to the kingdom of 
heaven. We scarcely know how the church of 
Christ could have existed, or what she would 
have become, without the purifying and ennobling 
fires of persecution to burn upon her. The most 
precious of her literary and religious treasures 
have come out of this furnace. The most 
heavenly and inspiring names in the record of 
her living examples are the names of men whose 
souls were purged from their dross by just such dis- 
cipline, and perhaps taken out of their bodies, and 
conveyed in a chariot of fire to heaven. The martyr 
literature of England, a possession like which, in 

15 



114 bunyan's examination. 

glory and in value, no nation in the world can show 
the counterpart, grew out of that fiery process upon 
men's souls ; it is as gold seven-fold purified in the 
furnace. This book of Bunyan's, the heavenly 
Pilgrim's Progress, grew out of just such a pro- 
cess ; for such is the nature of adversity in the hand 
of God, not only to refine and purify, but to bring 
out hidden virtue into exercise, and to give to all 
qualities so wrought, a power over the universal 
heart of man, such as no learning can sway, and 
no philosophy communicate. The best work of 
Baxter's was written on the borders of the grave, in 
weakness and suffering, having bidden the world 
adieu, and being raised by the magic of such disci- 
pline to a mount of vision, from whence he could 
take a broad and near survey of the glories of 
heaven. And perhaps self-denial, by the grace of 
God, is still more efficacious to raise a man's soul, 
impart to it power, and transfigure it with glory, 
than even adversity under the hand of God. At 
any rate, here is the true secret of greatness. Vir- 
tue, said Lord Bacon, is like precious odors, most 
fragrant when they are either burned or crushed. 
This is the power of adversity with noble natures, 
or, with the grace of God, even in a poor nature. 
But self-denial is a sort of self-burning, that makes 
a purer fire, and more surely separates the dross 
from a man's being, than temptation and affliction. 
Indeed, self-denial is the great end in this world, 
of which temptation and affliction are the means ; 
a man being then most free and powerful, when 
most completely dead to self and absorbed in God 
the Saviour. 

1 



bunyan's examination. 115 

The importance of differing and self-denial as 
elements of spiritual discipline, is never by us 
sufficiently considered. If we draw back from the 
baptism of suffering, we are not likely to be instru- 
mental in the regeneration either of the soul or the 
literature of the world. How beautiful the language 
of the poet Cowper, wrung from him by his own 
experience of anguish, 

" The path of sorrow, and that path alone, 
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown." 

And Cowper's own intellectual being, Cowper's own 
poetry, derived a strength and a sacred fire of inspi- 
ration from his own sufferings, which nothing else 
could have communicated. Such has been the 
experience of multitudes ; and it is true that the 
very best part of our literature has come out of that 
same furnace. And must not this be our experience 
if in our piety and intellect we would retain the 
elements of originality and vital power? It was a 
remark of Mr. Coleridge, that cannot be too often 
quoted, that Death only supplies the oil for the 
inextinguishable lamp of life ; a great truth, which 
is true even before our mortal dissolution ; that 
death to self, which trial, by God's grace, produces, 
constituting, even in this world, the very essence of 
strength, life and glory. 

Another most important and instructive lesson to 
be drawn from this part of Bunyan's history, and 
from our survey of his times, is that of the invalu- 
able preciousness of religious liberty, and the im- 
portance not only of the possession, but of the right 
understanding and use of this great blessing. The 



116 bunyan's examination. 

experience of ages has proved that there is no 
lesson so difficult for mankind to learn as that of 
true religious toleration ; for almost every sect in 
turn, when tempted by the power, has resorted to 
the practice of religious persecution. Were it not 
for the seeming incongruity of the sentiment, 
we should say that good men have even taken 
turns in burning one another ; though, to the 
credit of Rome, it must be said that the baptism of 
fire is almost exclusively her sacrament for here- 
tics. Good men of almost all persuasions have been 
confined in prison for conscience' sake. 

Bunyan was the first person in the reign of Charles 
II. punished for the crime of non-conformity. This, 
in part, is Southey's own language, punished is the 
phrase he uses ; it should have been, persecuted for 
the virtue ; for such it was in Bunyan : and any 
palliation which could be resorted to for the pur- 
pose of justifying an English Hierarchy for shutting 
up John Bunyan in prison, would also justify a 
Romish Hierarchy for burning Latimer and Ridley 
at the stake. Strange, that the lesson of religious 
toleration should be one of the last and hardest, 
even for liberal minds, to learn. It cost long 
time, instruction and discipline even for the disci- 
ples of Christ to learn it ; and they never would 
have learned it, had not the infant church been cut 
loose from the state, deprived of all possibility of 
girding the secular arm with thunder in its be- 
half. John had not learned it, when he would 
have called down fire from heaven to destroy the 
Samaritans ; nor John nor his fellows, when they 
forbade a faithful saint (some John Bunyan of 



bunyan's examination. 117 

those days, belike,) from casting out devils, because 
he followed not them. And they never would have 
learned it had the union of church and state been 
sanctioned by the Saviour. Wherever one sect in 
particular is united to the state, the lesson of reli- 
gious toleration will not be perfectly learned ; nay, 
who does not see that toleration itself, applied to 
religion, implies the assumption of a power that 
ought not to exist, that in itself is tyranny. It 
implies that you, an earthly authority, an earthly 
power, say to me, so condescendingly, I permit 
you the free exercise of your religion. You permit 
me 1 And what authority have you to permit me, 
any more than I to permit you ? God permits me, 
God commands me ; and do you dare to say that 
you tolerate me ? Who is he that shall dare come 
in between me and God, either to say yea or nay. 
Your toleration itself is tyranny, for you have no 
right to meddle with the matter. But wherever 
church and state are united, then there will be med- 
dling with the matter ; and even in this country, if 
one particular sect were to get the patronage of the 
state, there would be an end to our perfect religious 
freedom. 

In the reign of Queen Elizabeth, the poet South- 
well, who wrote one of the most exquisitely beau- 
tiful death-hymns in our language, and who seems 
to have been truly a devout man, was put to death 
violently and publicly, no other crime being proved 
against him, but what he honestly and proudly 
avowed, that he had come over into England 
simply and solely to preach the Roman Catho- 
lic religion. And he ought to have been left 



118 bunyan's examination. 

at liberty to preach it; for if the Protestant 
religion cannot stand against Roman Catholic 
preaching, it ought to go down; no religion is 
worth having, or worth supporting, that needs 
racks, or inquisitions, or fires and faggots to sus- 
tain it ; that dare not or cannot meet its adver- 
saries on the open battle-field of truth ; no re- 
ligion is worth supporting that needs any thing 
but the truth and Spirit of God to support it ; 
and no establishment ought to be permitted to 
stand, that stands by persecuting others ; nor any 
church to exist, that exists simply by unchurching 
others. 

So, if the English Church Establishment dared 
not consider herself safe without shutting up John 
Bunyan and sixty other dissenters with him in 
prison, some of them ministers, and some laymen, 
some for preaching the gospel, and some for 
hearing it, the English Church Establishment was 
not worthy to he safe ; the English Church Estab- 
lishment was a disgrace and an injury to the gospel, 
and a disgrace and an injury to a free people. No 
church is worth saving from destruction, if it has to 
be saved by the destruction of other men's religious 
liberties ; nay, if that be the case with it, it ought to 
go down, and the sooner the better. No church is 
worthy to stand, that makes non-conformity to its 
rites and usages a penal crime ; it becomes a per- 
secuting church the moment it does this ; for, sup- 
posing that every man, woman and child in the 
kingdom is kept from non-conformity simply by 
that threat, and that through the power of such 
terror, there comes to be never the need to put 



bunyan's examination. 119 

such penal laws in execution, and so never a single 
subject really molested or punished ; still that 
church is a persecuting church, and that people a 
persecuted people, a terrified people, a people 
cowed down, a people in whose souls the sacred 
fire of liberty is fast extinguishing, a people 
bound to God's service by the fear of men's 
racks. Such a people can never be free ; their 
cowardice will forge their fetters. A people 
who will sell themselves to a church through fear 
of punishment, will sell themselves to any tyrant 
through the same fear ; nay, a people who will 
serve God through the fear of punishment, when 
they would not serve him otherwise, will serve 
Satan in the same way. 

If you make nonconformity a crime, you are 
therefore a persecuting church, whether your name 
be Rome, or England, or America, even though 
there be not a single nonconformist found for you 
to exercise your wrath upon, not one against whom 
you may draw the sword of your penalty. But it 
is drawn, and drawn against the liberty of con- 
science, and every man whom in this way you keep 
from nonconformity, you make him a deceiver to 
his God ; you make him barter his conscience for 
exemption from an earthly penalty ; you make him 
put his conscience not into God's keeping, but 
into the keeping of your sword ; you dry up the 
life-blood of liberty in his soul ; you make him in 
his inmost conscience an imprisoned slave, a venal 
victim of your bribery and terror, and though he 
may still walk God's earth as others, it is with the 
iron in his soul, it is with your chain about his 



120 bunyan's examination. 

neck, it is as the shuffling fugitive from your pen- 
alties, and not as a man of noble soul, who, fearing 
God religiously, fears nothing else. There may, in- 
deed, be no chain visible, but you have wound its in- 
visible links around the man's spirit; you have bound 
the man within the man ; you have fettered him ; 
and laid him down in a cold dark dungeon ; and 
until those fetters are taken off, and he stands erect 
and looks out from his prison to God, it is no 
man, but a slave, that you have in your service ; it 
is no disciple, but a Simon Magus, that you have 
in your church. If a man obeys God through the 
fear of man, when he would not do it otherwise, he 
obeys not God, but man ; and in that very obedience 
he becomes a dissembler and a coward. If he says, 
I do this, which I should not do otherwise, for fear 
of such or such a penalty ; or, I partake of this 
sacrament, which I should not otherwise touch, 
because the continuance of my office depends upon 
it, what is he but an acknowledged sacrilegious hy- 
pocrite 1 And thus it is that your system of penal- 
ties for an established church, inevitably makes 
hypocrites. 

Let me now close what I have said on this point 
with a very beautiful parable by Dr. Franklin, 
taken originally, it is said, from a Persian poet, and 
to be found in substance also in Jeremy Taylor. 
Its imitation of the scripture style is as exquisite 
as its lessons are admirable : " And it came to 
pass, after these things, that Abraham sat in the 
door of his tent, about the going down of the 
sun; and behold a man bent with age coming 
from the way of the wilderness, leaning on a staff. 



bunyan's examination. 121 

And Abraham arose and met him, and said unto 
him, Turn in, I pray thee, and wash thy feet, and 
tarry all night ; and thou shalt arise early in the 
morning, and go thy way. And the man said, Nay; 
for I will abide under this tree. But Abraham 
pressed him greatly : so he turned, and they went 
into the tent ; and Abraham baked unleavened 
bread, and they did eat. And when Abraham saw 
that the man blessed not God, he said unto him, 
Wherefore dost thou not worship the most high 
God, Creator of Heaven and Earth ? And the 
man answered and said, I do not worship thy God, 
neither do I call on his name ; for I have made 
to myself a God, which abideth always in my 
house, and provideth me with all things. And 
Abraham's zeal was kindled against the man, and 
he arose, and fell upon him, and drove him forth 
with blows into the wilderness. And God called 
unto Abraham, saying, Abraham, where is the 
stranger I And Abraham answered and said, 
Lord, he would not worship thee, neither would he 
call upon thy name ; therefore have I driven him 
out from before my face into the wilderness. And 
God said, Have I borne with him these hundred and 
ninety and eight years, and nourished him and 
clothed him, notwithstanding his rebellion against 
me ; and couldst not thou, who art thyself a sinner, 
bear with him one night !" 

Now this supposed zeal of Abraham was far 
more natural, though not more excusable, than 
most ebullitions of religious intolerance. But who 
are we, that dare take into our hands the preroga- 
tive of God over the conscience ? Who are we, that 

16 



122 bunyan's preaching. 

we should punish with blows or penalties of any 
kind, the fellow creatures who differ from us, or 
because they differ from us, in their religious wor- 
ship ? Let us hope that the time is hastening, 
when that zeal divorced from love, which has pro- 
duced such incalculable misery on earth, shall be 
banished from all human hearts, and its place for 
ever supplied by the charity of the gospel. Out of 
God's holy word, I know of no brighter example 
of that charity on record, than John Bunyan. 

In the Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners,, 
Bunyan published what he names, A Brief Account 
of the Author's Call to the Work of the Ministry. 
It is one of the most interesting and instructive 
portions of that remarkable work, showing the 
deep exercises of his soul for others in as vivid a 
light as the account of his conversion sheds upon his 
personal spiritual experience. We venture to say 
that there was never in the world, since the time 
of the apostle Paul, a more remarkable instance of 
a wrestling spirit in behalf of others. x\nd this it 
was, that by the blessing of God, made his preach- 
ing efficacious ; it was the deep, powerful, soul- 
stirring intensity of interest, with which he entered 
into it himself, preparing himself for it by fervent 
prayer, and following his own sermons with a rest- 
less importunity of supplication for the divine bless- 
sing. " In my preaching," he tells us himself, " I 
have really been in pain, and have, as it were, tra- 
vailed to bring forth children to God ; neither could 
I be satisfied, unless some fruits did appear in my 
work. If it were fruitless, it mattered not who 
commended me ; but if I were fruitful, I cared not 



bunyan's preaching. 123 

who did condemn. I have thought of that word, 
Lo ! children are an heritage of the Lord ; and the 
fruit of the womb is his reward. As arrows in the 
hands of a mighty man, so are children of the 
youth. Happy is the man that hath his quiver full 
of them : they shall not be ashamed, but shall 
speak with the enemies in the gate." 

" It pleased me nothing to see a people drink in 
my opinions, if they seemed ignorant of Jesus 
Christ and the worth of their own salvation ; sound 
conviction of sin, especially of unbelief, and an 
heart set on fire to be saved by Christ, with strong 
breathings after a truly sanctified soul, that it was 
that delighted me ; those were the souls I counted 
blessed." 

" If any of those who were awakened by my minis- 
try, did after that fall back, (as sometimes too many 
did,) I can truly say their loss hath been more to me, 
than if my own children, begotten of my own body, 
had been going to the grave. I think verily I may 
speak it without any offence to the Lord, nothing 
has gone so near me as that ; unless it was the 
fear of the loss of the salvation of my own soul. I 
have counted as if I had goodly buildings and 
lordships in those places where my children were 
born. My heart hath been so wrapped up in the 
glory of this excellent work, that I counted myself 
more blessed and honored of God by this, than if 
he had made me emperor of the Christian world, or 
the lord of all the glory of the earth without it! 
Oh these words ! He that converteth a sinner from 
the error of his ways, doth save a soul from death. 
The fruit of the righteous is a tree of life ; and he 



124 BUNYAN^S PREACHING. 

that winneth souls is wise. They that be wise shall 
shine as the brightness of the firmament, and they 
that turn many to righteousness as the stars forever 
and ever. For what is our hope, our joy, our crown 
of rejoicing ? Are not ye even in the presence of our 
Lord Jesus Christ at his coming? For ye are our 
glory and joy. These, I say, with many others of a 
like nature, have been great refreshments to me." 

Not only before and after preaching was Bunyan 
accustomed to cry mightily to God for an effectual 
blessing, but also while he was in the exercise, for 
every word that he spake sprang out of an earnest 
desire by all means to save some. " When I have 
been preaching, I thank God my heart hath often all 
the time of this and the other exercise, with great 
earnestness cried to God that he would make the 
word effectual to the salvation of the soul: still being 
grieved lest the enemy should take the word away 
from the conscience, and so it should become un- 
fruitful ; wherefore I should labor so to speak the 
word, as that thereby, if it were possible, the sin 
and person guilty might be particularized by it." 

" Also, when I have done the exercise, it hath 
gone to my heart to think the word should now fall 
as rain on stony places ; still wishing from my 
heart, Oh that they who have heard me speak this 
day did but see as I do, what sin, death, hell and 
the curse of God is ; and also, what the grace and 
love and mercy of God is, through Christ, to men in 
such a case as they are, who are yet estranged from 
him. And indeed, I did often say in my heart be- 
fore the Lord, that if to be hanged up presently 
before their eyes would be a means to awaken them, 



bunyan's preaching. 125 

and confirm them in the truth, I should gladly be 
contented." 

Justification by faith was Bunyan's great delight 
in preaching, as it was Luther's ; and he had gone 
through a depth and power of experience in learning 
personally the nature of this doctrine, remarkably 
similar to the fiery discipline of Luther's own soul 
in coming to it. Hence it is not wonderful that 
there should be a striking similarity between Bun- 
yan's style, thoughts and expressions in preaching, 
and those of the great Reformer. For example, the 
following passages from his " Heavenly Footman" 
are such as might have been written down from 
Luther's own lips : 

" They that will go to heaven must run for it ; because, as the 
way is long, so the time in which they are to get to the end of it is 
very uncertain ; the time present is the only time ; thou hast no 
more time allotted thee than that thou now enjoy est : l Boast not 
thyself of to-morrow, for thou knowest not what a day may bring 
forth.' Do not say, I have time enough to get to heaven seven 
years hence ; for I tell thee, the bell may toll for thee before seven 
days more be ended ; and when death comes, away thou must go, 
whether thou art provided or not ; and therefore look to it ; make 
no delays ; it is not good dallying with things of so great concern- 
ment as the salvation or damnation of thy soul. You know he 
that hath a great way to go in a little time, and less by half than 
he thinks of, he had need to run for it. 

" They that will have heaven must run for it; because the devil, 
the law, sin, death, and hell, follow them. There is never a poor 
soul that is going to heaven, but the devil, the law, sin, death, and 
hell, make after that soul. ' The devil your adversary, as a 
roaring lion, goeth about seeking whom he may devour.' And I 
will assure you, the devil is nimble, he can run apace, he is light 
of foot, he hath overtaken many, he hath turned up their heels, 
and hath given them an everlasting fall. Also the law, that can 
shoot a great way, have a care thou keep out of the reach of those 



126 bunyan's preaching. 

great guns, the ten commandments. Hell also hath a wide mouth ; 
it can stretch itself farther than you are aware of. And as the 
angel said to Lot, ' Take heed, look not behind thee, neither tarry 
thou in all the plain, (that is, any where between this and heaven,) 
lest thou be consumed;' so say I to thee, Take heed, tarry*not, lest 
either the devil, hell, death, or the fearful curses of the law of 
God, do overtake thee, and throw thee down in the midst of thy 
sins, so as never to rise and recover again. If this were well con- 
sidered, then thou, as well as I, wouldst say, They that will have 
heaven must run for it. 

" They that will go to heaven must run for it ; because, per- 
chance, the gates of heaven may shut shortly. Sometimes sinners 
have not heaven's gates open to them so long as they suppose ; 
and if they be once shut against a man, they are so heavy, that 
all the men in the world, nor all the angels in heaven, are not 
able to open them. * I shut, and no man can open,' saith Christ. 
And how if thou shouldst come but one quarter of an hour too late ? 
I tell thee, it will cost thee an eternity to bewail thy misery in. 
Francis Spira can tell thee what it is to stay till the gate of mercy 
be quite shut ; or to run so lazily, that they be shut before thou 
get within them. What, to be shut out ! what, out of heaven ! 
Sinner, rather than lose it, run for it ; yea, and l so run that thou 
may est obtain.' ? ' 

Such preaching as this, such fire and life, coming 
from such a spirit as was in Bunyan's heart, could 
not but be effectual ; the Spirit of God attended it ; 
crowds of people would flock together to hear it, and 
many who came to scoff went away with the fire of 
the preacher in their consciences. Bunyan enjoyed 
himself more in preaching on the subject of faith 
than on any other, though he proclaimed the 
" terrors of the Lord" with unequalled power and 
pungency. " For I have been in my preaching," 
says he, " especially when I have been engaged in 
the doctrine of life by Christ without works, as if 
an angel of God had stood at my back to encourage 



bunyan's preaching. 127 

me. Oh ! it hath been with such power and hea- 
venly evidence upon my own soul, while I have been 
laboring to unfold it, to demonstrate it, and to 
fasten it upon the consciences of others, that I 
could not be contented with saying, I believe and 
am sure ; methought I was more than sure, if it be 
lawful to express myself so, that those things 
which there I asserted were true." 

Bunyan from time to time, even in his preaching, 
experienced the assaults of his old adversary. 
" Sometimes," he says, "I have been violently as- 
saulted with thoughts of blasphemy, and strongly 
tempted to speak the words with my mouth be- 
fore the congregation." He was also tempted to 
" pride and liftings up of heart," but it was his 
every day portion to be so let into the evil of his 
own heart, and still made to see such a multitude of 
corruptions and infirmities therein, that it " caused 
hanging down of the head under all his gifts and 
attainments." Moreover Bunyan had experience 
on this point from the word of God, which greatly 
chastened and humbled his spirit. " I have had 
also," says he, " together with this, some notable 
place or other of the word presented before me, 
which word hath contained in it some sharp and 
piercing sentence concerning the perishing of the 
soul, notwithstanding gifts and parts ; as, for in- 
stance, that hath been of great use to me, Though 1 
speak with the tongues of men and angels, and 
have not charity, lam become as a sounding brass 
and a tinkling cymbal, 

"A tinkling cymbal is an instrument of music with 
which a skilful player can make such melodious 



128 bunyan's preaching. 

and heart-inflaming music, that all who hear him 
play can scarcely hold from dancing ; and yet behold 
the cymbal hath not life, neither comes the music 
from it, but because of the art of him that plays 
therewith ; so then the instrument at last may 
come to naught and perish, though in times past 
such music hath been made upon it. 

" Just thus I saw it was, and will be, with them 
that have gifts, but want saving grace ; they are in 
the hand of Christ as the cymbal in the hand of 
David ; and as David could with the cymbal make 
that mirth in the service of God as to elevate the 
hearts of the worshippers, so Christ can use these 
gifted men, as with them to affect the souls of his 
people in the church ; yet when he hath done all, 
hang them by, as lifeless, though sounding cymbals. 

" This consideration, therefore, together with 
some others, were, for the most part, as a maul on 
the head of pride, and desire of vain-glory. What, 
thought I, shall I be proud because I am a sound- 
ing brass 1 Is it so much to be a fiddle 1 Hath 
not the least creature that hath life more of God 
in it than these 1 Besides, I knew it was love 
should never die, but these must cease and vanish; 
so I concluded a little grace, a little love, a little of 
the true fear of God is better than all the gifts ; yea, 
and I am fully convinced of it that it is possible for 
souls that can scarce give a man an answer, but with 
great confusion as to method ; I say it is possible 
for them to have a thousand times more grace, and 
to be more in the love and favor of the Lord, than 
some who, by the virtue of the gift of knowledge, 
can deliver themselves like angels." 



BUNYAN IN PRISON 



Illustrations of the Times of Bunyan. — Results of the spirit of persecution. — The Puri- 
tans driven to America. — Baxter in the Parliamentary Army. — The multiplicity of 
Sects, and Milton's opinion thereon. — Bedford Jail, and Bunyan in it, with his little 
child.— The Plague in London, and the persecuting King and Court in Oxford. — 
Bunyan's conference with the Justice's Clerk. — Interview of Bunyan's wife with 
the Judges.— Bunyan's prison employment's. — Suggestion and pursuit of the Pilgrim's 
Progress. 

In a former lecture, I have briefly sketched the 
principal movements of intolerance and persecution 
during the reign of those English monarchs who 
bore the name of Charles. In order the better to 
illustrate that persecuting spirit, which from the 
reign of James, passed into this, and the glorious 
issues that grew out of it, through that Omnipotent 
Prerogative, whereby the Divine Being causes the 
wrath of man to praise him, we will call up several 
great separate scenes from the past, with the actors 
in them ;■ to note which will be better for our pur- 
pose, than would be a whole volume of historical 
dissertations. The first scene is in the great era 
of 1620, just eight years before the birth of Bun- 
yan. It is a lowering winter's day ; on a coast 
rock-bound and perilous, sheeted with ice and snow, 
hovers a small vessel, worn and weary, like a bird 
17 



130 BUJNYAN IN PRISON. 

with wet plumage, driven in a storm from its nest, 
and timidly seeking shelter. It is the Mayflower, 
thrown on the bosom of Winter. The very sea is 
freezing ; the earth is as still as the grave, covered 
with snow, and as hard with frost, as iron ; there is 
no sign of a human habitation ; the deep forests 
have lost their foliage, and rise over the land like 
a shadowy congregation of skeletons. Yet there 
is a band of human beings on board that weather- 
beaten vessel, and they have voluntarily come to this 
savage coast to spend the rest of their lives, and to 
die there. Eight thousand miles they have struggled 
across the ocean, from a land of plenty and com- 
fort, from their own beloved country, from their 
homes, firesides, friends, to gather around an 
altar to God in the winter, in the wilderness ! 
What does it all mean I It marks to a noble mind 
the invaluable blessedness of freedom to worship 
God ! It means, that religious oppression is worse 
to bear, more hard, more intolerable to a generous 
mind, more insufferable to an upright conscience, 
than the war of the elements, than peril and naked- 
ness, than cold and hunger, than dens and caves of 
the earth, than disease and the loss of friends, and 
the tomahawks of savage enemies 1 These men 
have fled from religious oppression ; the hand of 
power has attempted to grasp and bind the con- 
science ; and conscience, and an undying religious 
faith, have borne these men into the wilderness 
to worship God as freely as the air that breathes 
God's praises. 

So noble, so grand, so holy, was the national 
birth of the best part of these United States of 



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BUNYAN IN PRISON* 131 

America ! Well may we glory in the name of Pu- 
ritan. It is a synonyme for all that is holy in 
piety, unbending in moral rectitude, patient in self- 
denial, illustrious in patriotism, precious in liberty 
and truth. Bat the virtues of our Puritan ances- 
tors, in their development, at least, grew out of 
oppression ; they were good out of evil, the wrath 
of man turned into the praise of God. It was the 
touch of the iron sceptre of the Stuarts, laid upon 
that sacred thing a pure, enlightened, religious con- 
science, and upon that sacred possession, a chosen, 
conscientious . religious faith and worship, that 
brought to pass all this glory ; it was the tyranny 
of an Established Church, the daring usurpation 
by the King of England of the prerogative of 
Christ as the head of his people, that planted on 
this continent the germ both of civil and religious 
liberty, the elements of the purest religious faith, 
and of the freest political institutions in the world ! 
This is one of the most remarkable instances on 
record, of the overruling sovereignty of God in its 
blessed purposes, by the instrumentality of his own 
enemies. The persecution, which in England threw 
John Bunyan into prison to write the Pilgrim's 
Progress, drove those holy men and women out of 
England into the wilderness, to form an asylum of 
liberty and religion for the whole world. It was 
one of King James' sayings, no Bishop, no King; 
and here in this land, under the oppression of James, 
a church without a bishop and a government with- 
out a king, secured and established that charter of 
civil and religious freedom, which king and prelate 
had alike violated and destroyed. 



132 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

The colony of the Puritans was driven out of 
England, as the oppressed Hebrews were driven 
out of Egypt ; and to this country they came, under 
just as sacred and holy an invisible guidance, as the 
Israelites of old to the land of Canaan. In the 
simple, striking language of the Bible, " It is a 
night to be much observed unto the Lord for bring- 
ing them out from the land of Egypt ; this is that 
night of the Lord to be observed of all the children 
of Israel, in their generations." And so was the 
night of the departure of our pilgrim ancestors a 
night of the Lord ; it was to them a night of sor- 
row, both when they came, and when they landed ; 
but it was that night of the Lord - r and it brought a 
day of glory, such as the world had not seen for 
ages, and of which, God grant the light may never 
go out. 

Ay ! call it holy ground 

The spot where first they trod ! 
They left unstained what there they found. 

Freedom to worship God! 

We leave now this colony, growing, under God's 
protecting care, in numbers and in graces, and pass 
to another scene, about twenty years afterwards, 
when the conflict for liberty on the one side and 
tyranny on the other, was raging between King 
Charles I. and the Parliament with Oliver Crom- 
well. 

The scene is in a church, and yet it looks like a 
camp, for it is crowded with soldiers, as well as with 
a village congregation. It is not the Lord's day, but 
a public talking day for sectarian controversy; and 
you might think the confusion of Babel had been 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 133 

there renewed from the strife of tongues and 
opinions to which you listen. There are fierce 
Antinomians, and Free-willers, and Episcopalians, 
and Independents, and Anabaptists, and Presby- 
terians and Nonconformists ; all animated with zeal 
and ready to contend for their peculiar opinions. 
The troopers of one regiment, and the soldiers of 
another, throw forth opinions and arguments with 
almost as much fury as they did musket balls in war. 
But in the midst of all this confusion, there stands 
in the reading pew under the pulpit, a plain man 
in a black dress, evidently a clergyman, with the 
Bible in his hand ; a thin, pallid, but heavenly 
countenance, though indicating as great a sharp- 
ness in controversy as any of the soldiers in war ; 
and he stands, and disputes, and discusses with 
the soldiers, without once quitting his post or relin- 
quishing the contest, from morning till night. This 
is Richard Baxter, the holy, venerated author of the 
Saints' Rest. He served for a season as chaplain 
in the parliamentary army, and in justice to that 
army as well as to himself, I must describe in his 
own words something more of his position. " 1 
was almost always," says he, " when opportunity 
offered, disputing with one or the other ; some- 
times upon civil government, and sometimes upon 
church order and government ; sometimes upon 
infant baptism, often against Antinomianism and 
the contrary extreme. But their most frequent 
and vehement disputes were for liberty of con- 
science, as they called it ; that is, that the civil 
government hath nothing to do to determine any 
thing in matters of religion by constraint or re- 



134 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

straint ; but that every man might not only hold, 
but preach and do, in matters of religion, what 
he pleased : that the civil magistrate hath nothing 
to do but with civil things, to keep the peace, pro- 
tect the church's liberties, &c." 

This is certainly a most striking testimony as 
to the character of Oliver Cromwell's army. Their 
very relaxations and amusements were chosen, not 
in the tap-room or the tavern, not in revelling 
and drunkenness, but in serious, hard contested 
arguments with one another, and with the keenest 
disputant of the times, on some of the most im- 
portant questions that can occupy the human mind. 
They were deeply interested, as no army ever was 
before, on the subject of religion ; nor was it any 
wonder, that with such an army, Oliver Cromwell 
was invincible. Religious liberty w r as new T to 
them ; it was the grand heresy of the army; 
Richard Baxter pays the highest compliment to 
them, in saying that they contended more vehe- 
mently for this than for any thing else. It was 
this precious possession and birthright of the 
Christian, which a persecuting religious hierarchy, 
in alliance with the despotism of the Stuarts, 
would have utterly destroyed. 

A word seems necessary in regard to the mul- 
titude of sects existing in those days, and the 
causes and the nature of them. In the nature of 
the human mind there never can be a dead uniform- 
ity of opinion on any subjects ; there cannot be 
on political subjects, and on religious matters, it 
was never intended by the great Head of the 
church that there should be, We may liken 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 135 

religious opinion in the church of Christ to the 
growth of a tree ; there are ten thousand varying 
twines and branches, and of the buds and bios- 
soms you can find no two exactly alike, and in a 
million leaves there are a million varieties of 
outline, hue, veins, and fibres ; and the fruit 
itself is different in shape, color, fragrance and 
taste. And for all this, the tree is incomparably 
more beautiful and wholesome. Now suppose, 
while that tree is growing, you should, for one 
season only, cover it over with some great crush- 
ing weight ; it would still grow ; the life of na- 
ture is too vigorous, too indestructible, except you 
uproot it, to be kept from shooting ; but if you re- 
move that weight in the Autumn, w 7 hat will you 
find as the result of compressed vital energy? 
Distortions, excrescences, monstrosities ; knotted 
and contorted branches, uptwisted and inveterately 
convolved ; leaves nested with w r orms, and over- 
curled, and grown in spasms and bunches ; and 
fruit, if at all, hard and deformed, green, odious 
"and bitter. Precisely such is the effect of vio- 
lently crushing the growth of opinion ; sects, that 
would have spead into symmetrical varieties in 
twigs and foliage, with fair mellow fruit to suit 
all palates, are vermiculated, and pressed into 
inveterate deformities and perhaps poisonous mon- 
strosities. 

"They corrupt the discipline of Christ," says 
Baxter, " by mixing it with secular force. They 
reproach the keys, or ministerial power, as if it 
were a leaden sword, and not worth a straw, un- 
less the magistrates' sword enforce it. What 



136 BUJNYAN IN PRISON. 

then did the primitive church for three hundred 
years 1 Worst of all, they corrupt the church, 
by forcing in the rabble of the unfit and unwill- 
ing ; and thereby tempt many godly Christians to 
schisms and dangerous separations. Till magis- 
trates keep the sword themselves, and learn to 
deny it to every angry clergyman who would do 
his own work with it, and leave them to their own 
weapons, — the word and spiritual keys, — the 
church will never have unity and peace. I dis- 
liked also," Baxter adds, " some of the Presby- 
terians, that were not tender enough to dissenting 
brethren ; but too much against liberty, as others 
were too much for it ; and thought by votes and 
numbers to do that which love and reason should 
have done." Ah, how much truth in this sad 
aphorism, as the habit of mankind ; votes and 
numbers, instead of love and reason. "The poor 
church of Christ," Baxter curiously remarks, " the 
sober, sound, religious part, are like Christ, that 
was crucified between tw r o thieves. The profane 
and formal persecutors on the one hand, and the 
fanatic dividing sectaries on the other, have in 
all ages been grinding the spiritual seed, as the 
corn is ground between the millstones." 

And now, I must add to this the sensible re- 
marks of the judicious and impartial biographer 
of Baxter, as to the period on which we have 
been dwelling. " It is worthy of observation," says 
Mr. Orme, " that all attempts to produce uniformity 
have either been defeated or have occasioned fresh 
divisions. Under the appearance of outward unity, 
the greatest diversity of opinion generally prevails. 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 137 

And genuine religion flourishes most amidst what 
is commonly denounced as the contentions of rival 
sects. The soil whose rankness sends forth an 
abundant crop of weeds, will produce, if cultivated, 
a still more luxuriant harvest of corn. If the times 
of Baxter were fruitful of sects, and some of them 
wild and monstrous, they were still more fruitful 
in the number of genuine, holy and devoted Chris- 
tians. It was not an age of fanaticism only, but 
of pure and undefiled religion." 

I am reminded also of that noble passage in Mil- 
ton's Areopagitica : " For when God shakes a 
kingdom with strong and healthful commotions to 
a general reforming, it is not untrue that many sec- 
taries and false teachers are then busiest in sedu- 
cing ; but yet more true it is, that God then raises 
to his own work men of rare abilities, and more 
than common industry, not only to look back and 
revise what hath been taught heretofore, but to 
gain further, and go on some new enlightened steps 
in the discovery of truth. And do we not see that 
while we still affect by all means a rigid external 
formality, we may as soon fall again into a gross 
conforming stupidity, a stark and dead congealment 
of wood, and hay, and stubble, forced and frozen 
together, which is more to the sudden degeneracy 
of a church than many subdichotamies (subdivi- 
sions) of petty schisms. Not that I can think well 
of every light separation ; or that all in a church 
is to be expected gold and silver and precious 
stones; it is not possible for men to sever the 
wheat from the tares, the good fish from the other 
fry ; that must be the angels' ministry at the end 

18 



138 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

of mortal things. Yet, if all cannot be of one 
mind, as who looks they should be 1 this, doubtless, 
is more wholesome, more prudent, and more Chris- 
tian, that many be tolerated, rather than all com- 
pelled." 

The period on which we are dwelling might 
almost be termed a religious and political whirl- 
wind; a hurricane of opinions, in which the ele- 
ments of heaven and earth met and contended. 
But tyranny and unnatural restraint acting upon 
elements that in our human and religious nature 
must always exist, but that, if left to a quiet growth 
and development, will, under God's providence and 
grace, make a 'wholesome, transparent, circum- 
fluent atmosphere for society ; produced infernal 
mixtures, electric explosions, black thunder-clouds, 
charged at once with the fires of angry passion, and 
the tremendous energy of conscience, piety and 
fanaticism together. Look over this, our own be- 
loved land of liberty and religion ; there are as 
many sects in it, as there ever were on the borders, 
or in the heart, of the period of the Commonwealth 
of England ; and if yon were to put upon them 
here those violent restraints, by which they had 
then and there been made to chafe, and smoulder, 
and irritate in confinement, and from which they 
broke loose with such astounding developments, 
such flames, such indomitable life, such exulting 
and contending fury, you would change the calm 
and blessed aspect of our state into a hurricane of 
anarchy and revolution; out of this all surround- 
ing atmosphere of peace and freedom, in which 
every man sees clearly, and breathes securely, you 



BUNYAN IN PRISON, 139 

would evoke storms and lightning ; thunder-clouds 
would appear charged against each other, and 
houses would be seen unroofed, and trees uprooted 
and flying through the darkened air in tornadoes. 
Such is the inevitable consequence of laying the 
hand of civil or religious tyranny upon the liberty 
of opinion. It is like laying a mountain without a 
crater upon a raging volcano. The continent 
shakes with earthquakes ; the thunder bellows 
from its subterranean confinement ; the lava breaks 
out in plains, and pours and burns over smiling 
villages ; and just so, earth will be a symbol of the 
chaos of hell, if you lay your mountain of civil or 
religious tyranny on the human conscience. Leave 
it free, and it is like the atmosphere with God to 
govern its elements; confine it, and it is like a 
pent volcano, that will shake and devastate the 
world. 

Fanaticism grows by opposition, in confinement, 
in constrained silence and darkness ; it may be 
thus produced, where there was nothing of it be- 
fore. This is but the Poet's principle, that 



Thoughts shut up want air, 

And spoil, like bales unopened to the sun. 

It is especially so with religious opinion that is 
suffering tyrannical restraint. It becomes a smoul- 
dering fire, that burns inwardly ; and as in a cot- 
ton-ship at sea, or a barn crammed with wet hay, 
the combustion having once commenced, if you 
open the hatches or cut the bundles to put it out, 
it is ten to one that you are too late, and it all 
bursts into a light flame together, so that houses 



140 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

and ships, and human lives are consumed in the 
conflagration ; just so with restrained, smouldering 
opinions in the civil and ecclesiastical state. But 
if a bundle of wet hay were spread open with the 
rake, or tossed on the fork in the sun and air, it 
would speedily become dry and safe for your barns 
and cattle. Just so with swarming opinions, that 
by restraint would turn to fanaticism in the popular 
mind ; give them the air ; turn them, rake them, 
toss them, over and over again, in the bright sun, 
to the sound of free and merry voices ; let all the 
world, if they wish, see what they are ; let all the 
world, if they wish, help to turn and spread them ; 
the mischief, if there were any, dies in such a pro- 
cess. Truth, liberty, justice, never fears the free- 
dom of opinion, tossed out so in the open air, and 
spread beneath the sun-light ; truth only asks the 
light and air, and the whole world to come and see 
every thing ; but error, despotism, tyranny, fears 
such a tossing and spreading of the truth, and 
would rather shut it up in bundles and crowd it 
into a Bastile, or into the hold of a slave-ship. 
Such things have been, and no doubt such things 
will be again. And we hope in God that in this 
country, by his word, and by his grace, his people 
will be prepared for the conflict. Nobly says Mil- 
ton, " Though all the winds of doctrine were let 
loose to play upon the earth, so Truth be in the 
field, we do injuriously by licensing and prohibit- 
ing, to misdoubt her strength. Let her and False- 
hood grapple; who ever knew truth put to the 
worse in a free and open encounter F No man, 
ever ; and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is 
Liberty. 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 141 

Pass we now to another scene, about twenty 
years later, during which time, save in the brief and 
glorious protectorate of Cromwell, there had been 
an almost uninterrupted succession of arbitrary, per- 
secuting measures in the Church and State of Eng- 
land. We enter the prison of John Bunyan. It 
is, you are aware, the common jail of Bedford. 
It is said to have been the damp and dreadful con- 
dition of this prison, which first set Howard's phi- 
lanthropic spirit in exercise, for the improvement 
of the prisons throughout Europe. Bunyan's pri- 
son stood upon the Bedford bridge. It was a 
bridge of sighs to many, though, by God's grace, 
not to him ; its walls were probably almost as 
damp as the dungeons in Venice, but it was not 
sea water that washed its foundations, and trickled 
its rusty iron grates with moisture. There was 
no court-yard, no space for out-of-door work, or 
exercise in the open air ; there were stone walls 
and iron bars, a bridge and a river. The window 
in his cell was grated, so that he could not look far 
or freely out of it ; but he could see the sunlight, 
the water, the fields and the clouds. The 
glimpses of sweet nature in this world were not so 
clear to him here, as were the perspective visions 
of the Holy City coming in upon his soul. His 
cell was small and comfortless, as was the whole 
jail ; and when he would step farther than the 
few paces back and forth between the walls of that 
cell, he must go into the common room of the pri- 
son. In those times of persecution, it was crowd- 
ed ; there were at one period more than sixty dis- 
senters incarcerated along with Bunyan, some for 



142 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

hearing the Gospel, some for preaching it. He 
had, it is said, the experience of some cruel and 
oppressive jailors, though others were very kind 
to him. Twelve years of imprisonment are long 
to bear, 

Long years, it tries the thrilling frame to bear, 

and for six or seven of those it has been said that 
there is no reason to believe that he ever was per- 
mitted to set his foot outside the rocky threshold. 
Perhaps he had died, says the continuation of his 
own life, which is supposed to have been written 
by a brother Baptist minister intimately acquainted 
with him — perhaps he had died, by the noisome- 
ness and ill usage of the place, had not his enlarge- 
ment been procured from his hard and unreasona- 
ble sufferings. Unable to pursue the honest trade 
at which he had always hitherto wrought for the 
support of his family, he now learned, assisted, 
doubtless, by them, to make tagged thread laces, 
by the sale of which they might procure what must 
have been, at best, a scanty subsistence. A be- 
loved wife and four children were dependent upon 
him, and were permitted at times to visit him ; and 
that dear blind child, in regard to whom he has, in 
so artless and affecting a manner, related the trial 
of his feelings, was permitted to abide with him 
through the day, a solace to his heart, a companion 
in his work, and one to whom he could talk as 
artlessly as to his own soul ; their conversation 
must have been often as the prattle of two children, 
for Bunyan had in him the freshness and simplicity 
of childhood, even in riper years ; a mark of genius r 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 143 

which a great and profound writer has pointed out 
as one of its most precious and undoubted cha- 
racteristics. 

Now let us enter his little cell. He is sitting 
at his table, to finish by sunlight the day's work, 
for the livelihood of his dear family, which they have 
prepared for him. On a little stool his poor blind 
child sits by him, and with that expression of cheer- 
ful resignation, with which God seals the counte- 
nance when he takes away the sight, the daughter 
turns her face up to her father, as if she could see 
the affectionate expression with which he looks 
upon her, and prattles to her, On the table and 
in the grated window there are three books, the 
Bible, the Concordance, and Bunyan's precious 
old copy of the Book of Martyrs. And now the 
day is waning, and his dear blind child must go 
home with the laces he has finished, to her mother. 
And now Bunyan opens his Bible, and reads aloud 
a portion of scripture to his little one, and then 
encircling her in his arms, and clasping her small 
hands in his, he kneels down on the cold stone 
floor, and pours out his soul in prayer to God for 
the salvation of those so inexpressibly dear to him, 
and for whom he has been all day working. So 
daily he prays for them and for her, and daily he 
prays with her, and teaches his blind child to 
pray. This done, with a parting kiss he dis- 
misses her to her mother, by the rough hands of 
the jailor. 

And now it is evening. A rude lamp glimmers 
darkly on the table, the tagged laces are laid aside, 
and Bunyan, alone, is busy with his Bible, the 



144 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

Concordance, and his pen, ink, and paper. He 
writes as though joy did make him write. His 
pale, worn countenance is lighted with a fire, as 
if reflected from the radiant jasper walls of the 
Celestial City. He writes, and smiles, and clasps 
his hands, and looks upward, and blesses God for 
his goodness, and then again turns to his writing, 
and then again becomes so entranced with a pas- 
sage of scripture, the glory of which the Holy Spi- 
rit lets in upon his soul, that he is forced, as it were, 
to lay aside all his labors, and give himself to the 
sweet work of his closing evening's devotions. The 
last you see of him for the night, he is alone, 
kneeling on the floor of his prison ; he is alone, 
with God. 

Hear him when he speaks of the blessedness he 
thus enjoyed : " I never had, in all my life, so great 
an inlet into the word of God, as now. Those 
scriptures that I saw nothing in before, are made, 
in this place and state, to shine upon me. Some- 
times, when I have been in the savor of them, I 
have been able to laugh at destruction, and to fear 
neither the horse nor his rider. I have had sweet 
sights of the forgiveness of my sins in this place, 
and of my being with Jesus in another world. O, 
the Mount Sion, the heavenly Jerusalem, the innu- 
merable company of angels, and God, the Judge 
of all, and the spirits of just men made perfect, 
and Jesus, have been sweet to me in this place ! 
I have seen that here, which I am persuaded I 
shall never, in this world, be able to express. I 
have seen a truth in this Scripture, * Whom, having 
not seen, ye love ; in whom, though now ye see 



BUN VAN IN PRISON. 145 

him not, yet, believing, ye rejoice with joy unspeak- 
able and full of glory.' " 

And where, and by whom, and for what, is this 
man imprisoned ? In a Christian land, by an Es- 
tablished Church, for preaching the Gospel to the 
poor, the ignorant, the destitute, and for not praying 
with a Common Prayer Book ! For this a heaven- 
commissioned minister of Jesus Christ languishes 
twelve years in prison ! For this he is kneeling on 
the cold stone floor of a narrow cell, in secret with 
his God, because he chose, without a commission 
from the government, to worship God in public, 
and to lead the devotions of others, by the Scrip- 
tures merely, without the liturgical form imposed, 
by the State, upon the conscience. Yes ! astounding 
as the fact may seem, John Bunyan is shut up within 
iron bars and stone walls, as men would shut up a 
wild beast or a murderer, because he would pray 
without a Common Prayer Book ! The only paral- 
lel instance of persecution is to be found in the 
case of Daniel, thrown by an oriental despot 
into the lions' den, for praying to God without the 
State liturgy. The cases are strikingly similar, 
the concoction of bigotry very much the same. 
All the presidents of the kingdom, the governors 
and the princes, the counsellors and the captains, 
had consulted together to establish a royal statute, 
and to make a firm decree, that whosoever shall 
ask a petition of any god or man for thirty days, 
save of thee, O King, he shall be cast into the den 
of lions. Then Daniel, with his windows open 
towards Jerusalem, eschewing the king's liturgy, 
kneeled upon his knees without it, three times a 
19 



146 BtJNYAN IN PRISON. 

day, and prayed and gave thanks before his God, 
as he did aforetime. Then these men assembled, 
and found Daniel praying and making supplications 
before his God ; so they hasted with their accusa- 
tion, and under the king's royal signet, caused 
Daniel to be thrown into the den of lions, because 
they found him praying and making supplications 
before his God. 

And so did the sheriffs to Bunyan ; they found 
him praying without the Common Prayer Book, 
in a place not permitted by the decree of the 
king ; they found him with the Bible in his 
hand, worshipping God in a conventicle, and forth- 
with, according to the king's decree, they threw 
him into prison, to remain there, for no crime what- 
ever, twelve years, as a common malefactor ! 
But they were years of mercy, comfort, glory. 
He has himself given some account of his own 
blessedness in this tribulation. " Many more of 
the dealings of God towards me," says he, "I 
might relate, but these, out of the spoils won in 
battle, have I dedicated to maintain the house of 
God." 

And now we will turn to another scene during the 
same period, in the city of London. It is in the 
midst of the plague. The grass is growing in the 
streets. The red cross is marked upon the houses, 
the dead-cart is moving from street to street, with its 
melancholy bell, and the hoarse wailing cry of the 
grave's-man reverberates through the deserted 
passages, Bring out your dead ! The pulpits have 
been forsaken of the established clergy, but holy 
men of God, persecuted of the Church and State, 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 147 

and forbidden to preach because of their Noncon- 
formity, have entered the vacant churches, and are 
" holding forth the word of life," in the face of 
death, to trembling multitudes, in pulpits from 
which they had been driven with penal inflictions 
in a season of health ! They preach as dying unto 
dying men ; hearers one day, sick the next, and 
dead the next. They preach and listen, as though 
never to preach or listen again. But while God is 
consuming the people by these judgments, and the 
Nonconformists, fearless of death, are laboring to 
save men's souls, King Charles is revelling with 
his dissolute court at Oxford, and contriving with 
his Parliament and clergy, removed thither from 
London for fear of the Plague, an additional act of 
persecution, to drive these fearless ministers, whom 
death itself cannot stop from preaching, beyond 
the very limits of cities, towns and villages ! The 
impiety of such proceedings could not have been 
much greater, had they passed a law enacting that 
if any man attempted to be saved out of the es- 
tablished church, he should forthwith be consigned 
to eternal perdition. " So little," says Baxter, 
" did the sense of God's terrible judgments, or 
of the necessities of many hundred thousand ig- 
norant souls, or the groans of the poor people for 
the teaching which they had lost, or the fear of the 
great and final reckoning, affect the hearts of the 
prelatists, or stop them in their way." It is a fear- 
ful picture of impiety, but nevertheless a picture of 
the times. 

We return, in the next scene, to Bunyan's prison. 
The graphic dialogue forms so instructive a sketch in 



148 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

manner as in matter, that it shall be given in his own 
words. After he had laid in jail for some time, 
the justices sent their clerk of the peace, Mr. Cobb, 
to admonish him and demand his submission. This 
man sent for Bunyan, and when he was come to him, 
he said, 

Cobb. Neighbor Bunyan, how do you do 1 

Bun. I thank you sir, said I, very well, blessed 
be the Lord. 

Cobb. Saith he, I come to tell you that it is de- 
sired you would submit yourself to the laws of the 
land, or else at the next sessions it will go worse 
with you, even to be sent away out of the nation, 
or else worse than that. 

Bun. I said that I did desire to demean myself 
in the world both as becometh a man and a 
Christian. 

Cobb. But, saith he, you must submit to the 
laws of the land, and leave oif those meetings 
which you were wont to have ; for the statute 
law is directly against it ; and I am sent to you 
by the justices to tell you that they do intend to 
prosecute the law against you, if you submit not. 

Bunyan made answer to this that the law by 
which he was in prison neither reached himself 
nor his meetings, being directed only against those 
who met for wicked treasonable purposes. 

The clerk argued that Bunyan ought to consider 
it liberty enough, if permitted to speak to his neigh- 
bor privately and alone on the subject of religion ; 
and added that it was his private meetings that the 
law was against. 

Bun. Sir, said I, if I may do good to one by my 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 149 

discourse, why may I not do good to two 1 And if 
to two, why not to four, and so to eight, and so 
forth. Bunyan's arithmetical progression would 
soon make a congregation. Ay, saith Cobb, and 
to an hundred, I warrant you. 

Bun. Yes sir, said I, I think I should not be 
forbid to do as much good as I can. If I, by dis- 
coursing, may do good to one, surely, by the 
same law, I may do good to many. 

Cobb. The law, saith he, doth expressly forbid 
your private meetings, therefore they are not to be 
tolerated. 

Bunyan argued again that the law only intended 
mischievous meetings. 

Cobb. But, good man Bunyan, said he, me- 
thinks you need not stand so strictly upon this 
one thing, as to have meetings of such public 
assemblies. Cannot you submit, and notwith- 
standing do as much good as you can in a 
neighborly way, without having such meetings ? 
You may come to the public assemblies and hear. 
What though you do not preach, you may hear : 
do not think yourself so well enlightened, and that 
you have received a gift so far above others, but 
that you may hear other men preach. 

Bunyan answered that he was as willing to be 
taught, as to give instruction, and that he looked 
upon it as his duty to do both. 

Cobb. But, said he, what if you should forbear 
awhile, and sit still, till you see further how things 
will go ? 

And now comes into view one of the mighty 
impulses, which Bunyan had gained, doubtless 



150 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

from the Book of Martyrs, which had come 
sweeping down through the current of time and 
revolution, from John WicklhTe ; Wickliffe's soul 
and Bunyan's meeting and communing together, 
across the gulf of more than two hundred years, in 
this passage, as Bunyan's and Luther's had done, 
to such powerful purpose, in the great Reformer's 
Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians. 

Sir, said Bunyan, as if he had been speaking 
scripture ; and it shows what inspiring power the 
Book of Martyrs had over him ; Sir, said Bun- 
yan, WicklifFe saith, that he which leaveth off 
preaching and hearing of the word of God for 
fear of excommunication of men, he is already ex- 
communicated of God, and shall, in the day of 
judgment, be counted a traitor to Christ. 

Cobb. Ay, saith he, they that do not hear. 

Bun. But, sir, said I, he saith, he that shall leave 
off either preaching or hearing. That is, if he 
hath received a gift for edification, it is his sin, if 
he doth not lay it out in a way of exhortation 
and counsel, according to the proportion of his gift, 
as well as to spend his time altogether in hearing 
others preach. 

Cobb. But, said he, how shall we know that you 
have received a gift 1 

Bun. Said I, let any man hear and search, and 
prove the doctrine by the Bible. 

Cobb. But will you be willing, said he, that two 
indifferent persons shall determine the case, and 
will you stand by their judgment? 

Bun. I said, are they infallible ? 

There outspoke the true Protestant. 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 151 

Cobb. He said no. 

Bun. Then said I, it is possible my judgment 
may be as good as theirs ; but yet I will pass by 
either, and in this matter be judged by the Scrip- 
ture. I am sure that is infallible, and cannot err. 

Cobb. But, said he, who shall be judge between 
you, for you take the Scriptures one way and they 
another. 

Bun. I said the Scriptures should, and that by 
comparing one scripture with another ; for that will 
open itself, if it be rightly compared. As for in- 
stance, naming, several passages. 

Cobb. But are you willing, said he, to stand to 
the judgment of the Church I 

Bun. Yes, sir, said I, to the approbation of the 
Church of God ; the Church's judgment is best ex- 
pressed in Scripture. This answer of Bunyan 
was admirable ; nor can any one do other than 
admire the wisdom, patience, and pertinency, as 
well as sometimes wit, and always calmness, of 
Bunyan's replies. 

Well, neighbor Bunyan, said Mr. Cobb, indeed, I 
would wish you seriously to consider of these things, 
between this and the quarter sessions, and to sub- 
mit yourself. You may do much good, if you con- 
tinue still in the land; but alas, what benefit will 
it be to your friends, or what good can it do to 
them, if you should be sent away beyond the seas 
into Spain or Constantinople, or some other remote 
part of the world 1 Pray, be ruled. 

Jailor. Indeed, sir, I hope he will be ruled. 

Bun. I shall desire, said I, in all godliness and 
honesty, to behave myself in the nation whilst I 



152 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

am in it. And if I must be so dealt withal as you 
say, I hope God will help me to bear what they 
shall lay upon me. I know no evil that I have 
done in this matter to be so used. I speak as in 
the presence of God. 

Cobb. You know, saith he, that the Scripture 
saith, The powers that be are ordained of God. 

Bun. I said yes, and that I was to submit to the 
king as supreme, also to the governors, as to them 
that are sent by him. 

Cobb. Well, then, said he, the king commands 
you, that you should not have any private meetings, 
because it is against his law ; and he is ordained 
of God, therefore you should not have any. 

How was Bunyan to get over this 1 " I told 
him," said he, " that Paul did own the powers that 
were in his day to be of God ; and yet he was often 
in prison under them for all that. And also, though 
Jesus Christ told Pilate that he had no power 
against him but of God, yet he died under the same 
Pilate ; and yet, said I, I hope you will not say that 
either Paul or Christ did deny magistracy, and so 
sinned against God in slighting the ordinance. 
Sir, said I, the law hath provided two ways of obey- 
ing ; the one to do that which in my conscience I 
do believe* that I am bound to do actively, and 
where I cannot obey actively, then I am willing to 
lie down, and to suffer what they shall do unto me. 
At this he sat still, and said no more ; which when 
he had done, I did thank him for his civil and meek 
discoursing with me ; and so we parted. Oh, that 
we might meet in heaven !" 

This was indeed a civil and meek discoursing in, 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 153 

comparison with the impious treatment Bunyan 
received from the justices in a preceding examina- 
tion. And so they parted. But after this, Bun- 
yan's wife, while he lay in prison, undertook to pre- 
sent a petition in his behalf to the judges. Three 
times she made the attempt, twice to Lord Chief 
Justice Hale, and nothing could daunt her, but she 
would receive a hearing. The scene is worthy the 
pencil of some great painter, where, without a 
creature to befriend or sustain her, this young and 
trembling woman, unaccustomed and abashed at 
such presences,, entered the court-room, and stood 
before the judges, in the midst of the crowd of 
justices and gentry of the country assembled. She 
addressed herself, with a trembling heart, directly 
to Lord Chief Justice Hale, who wore in his coun- 
tenance so clearly, the lines of that gentleness and 
goodness for which he was illustrious, that the 
courage of the wife was somewhat supported, even 
amidst the frowns and wrathful words of the other 
justices. 

• My Lord, said she to Judge Hale, I make bold 
to come once again to your lordship, to know what 
may be done to my husband. 

Bunyan loved to put these examinations in the 
form of a dialogue ; it made every thing more 
vivid to his mind; and in this case he wrote down 
the account from the lips of his courageous wife, 
just as the scene was evolved in the court room. 

Judge Hale answered, Woman, I told thee before 
I could do thee no good, because they have taken 
that for a conviction, which thy husband spoke at the 

20 



154 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

sessions ; and unless there be something done to 
undo that, I can do thee no good. 

Woman, My Lord, said she, he is kept unlaw- 
fully in prison ; they clapped him up before there 
were any proclamation against the meetings ; the 
indictment also is false ; besides, they never asked 
him whether he was guilty or no ; neither did he 
confess the indictment. 

All this was true ; but one of the justices, whom 
she knew not, said, My Lord, he was lawfully con- 
victed. 

Woman. It is false, said she; for when they said 
to him, Do you confess the indictment I he said 
only this, that he had been at several meetings, 
both where there was preaching of the word and 
prayer, and that they had God's presence among 
them. 

Judge Twisdon. Whereat Judge Twisdon an- 
swered very angrily, saying, What, you think we 
can do what we list ; your husband is a breaker of 
the peace, and is convicted by the law. Whereupon 
Judge Hale called for the statute book. 

Woman. But, said she, my Lord, he was not 
lawfully convicted. 

Chester. Then Justice Chester said, My Lord, 
he was lawfully convicted. 

Woman. It is false, said she ; it was but a word 
of discourse that they took for conviction, as you 
heard before. 

Chester. But it is recorded, woman, it is re- 
corded, says Justice Chester. As if it must of 
necessity be true, because it is recorded. With 
which words he often endeavored to stop her 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 155 

month, having no other argument to convince her, 
but it is recorded, it is recorded. 

Woman. My Lord, said she, I was awhile since 
in London, to see if I could get my husband's 
liberty, and there I spoke with my Lord Barkwood, 
one of the House of Lords, to whom I delivered 
a petition, who took it of me, and presented it to 
some of the rest of the House of Lords for my hus- 
band's releasement ; who, when they had seen it, 
they said that they could not release him, but had 
committed his releasement to the judges, at the 
next assizes. This he told me ; and now I come to 
you to see if any thing can be done in this business, 
and you give neither releasement nor relief. To 
which they give her no answer, but made as if they 
heard her not. Only Justice Chester was often up 
with this, He is convicted, and it is recorded. 

Woman. If it be, it is false, said she. 

Chester. My Lord, said Justice Chester, he is a 
pestilent fellow ; there is not such a fellow in the 
country again. 

Twisdon. What, will your husband leave preach- 
ing 1 If he will do so, then send for him. 

Bunyan's wife remembered the sublime and no- 
ble answer of her husband, If I were out of the 
prison to-day, I would preach the Gospel again to- 
morrow, by the help of God. My lord, said she, he 
dares not leave preaching as long as he can speak. 

Tivisdon. See here ; what should we talk any 
more about such a fellow ; must he do what he 
lists 1 He is a breaker of the peace. 

Woman. She told him again that he desired to 
live peacably, and to follow his calling, that his 



156 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

family might be maintained ; and moreover, my 
Lord, I have four small children that cannot help 
themselves, of which one is blind, and have nothing 
to live upon but the charity of good people. This, 
with some other affecting distresses which she told, 
troubled Judge Hale. Alas, poor woman ! said he. 

Twisdon. But Judge Twisdon told her that she 
made poverty her cloak ; and said, moreover, that 
he understood I was maintained better by running 
up and down in preaching, than by following my 
calling. 

Hale. What is his calling, said Judge Hale. 

Answer. Then some of the company that stood 
by said, A tinker, my lord. 

Woman. Yes, said she, and because he is a 
tinker, and a poor man, therefore he is despised, 
and cannot have justice. 

Hale. Then Judge Hale answered very mildly, 
saying, I tell thee, woman, seeing it is so, that they 
have taken what thy husband spake for a conviction, 
thou must either apply thyself to the king, or sue 
out his pardon, or get a writ of error. 

Chester. But when Justice Chester heard him 
give her this counsel, and especially as she sup- 
posed, because he spoke of a writ of error, he 
chafed, and seemed to be very much offended, say- 
ing, My lord, he will preach and do what he lists. 

Woman. He preach eth nothing but the word of 
God, said she. 

Twisdon. He preach the word of God ! said 
Twisdon, (and withal she thought he would have 
struck her,) he runneth up and down, and doth 
harm. 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 157 

Woman. No, my lord, said she, it is not so ; God 
hath owned him, and done much good by him. 

Twisdon. God ! said he ; his doctrine is the 
doctrine of the devil. 

Woman. My lord, said she, when the righteous 
Judge shall appear, it will be known, that his doc- 
trine is not the doctrine of the devil. 

Twisdon. My lord, said he to Judge Hale, do 
not mind her, but send her away. 

Hale. Then, said Judge Hale, I am sorry, wo- 
man, that I cannot do thee any good ; thou must 
do one of those three things aforesaid, namely : 
either to apply thyself to the king, or sue out his 
pardon, or get a writ of error ; but a writ of error 
will be cheapest. 

Woman. At which Chester again seemed to be 
in a chafe, and put off his hat, and, as she thought, 
scratched his head for anger; but then I saw, said 
she, that there was no prevailing to have my hus- 
band sent for, though I often desired them that they 
would send for him, that he might speak for him- 
self, telling them that he could give them better 
satisfaction than I could, in what they demanded 
of him, with several other things which now I for- 
get. Only this I remember, that though I was 
somewhat timorous at my first entrance into the 
chamber, yet before I went out I could not but 
break forth into tears, not so much because they 
were so hard-hearted against me and my husband, 
but to think what a sad account such poor creatures 
will have to give at the coming of the Lord, when 
they shall there answer for all things whatsoever 
they have done in the body, whether it be good or 
whether it be evil. 



158 BUNYAIN IN PRISON. 

Bunyan's wife was a partaker of his own spirit, 
a heroine, in this trying situation, of no ordinary 
stamp. This courageous woman, and Lord Chief 
Justice Hale, and Bunyan, have long since met in 
heaven, but how little could they recognize each 
other's character on earth ! How little could 
the distressed, insulted wife have imagined, that 
beneath the Judge's ermine there was beating the 
heart of a child of God, a man of humility, integri- 
ty, and prayer ! How little could the great, learned, 
illustrious, and truly pious judge have dreamed, 
that the man, the obscure tinker, whom he was 
suffering to languish in prison for want of a writ of 
error, would one day be the subject of greater admi- 
ration and praise, than all the judges in the king- 
dom of Great Britain ! How little could he dream, 
that from that narrow cell where the prisoner was 
left incarcerated, and cut off apparently from all 
usefulness, a glory would shine out, illustrating the 
government and grace of God, and doing more 
good to man, than all the prelates and judges in the 
reign of Charles II. put together had accomplished ! 

Twelve full years Bunyan remained in this pri- 
son. He wrote several works while there, besides 
the Pilgrim's Progress, among which was a work 
entitled, " A Confession of my Faith, and a Reason 
of my Practice." In this work, written but a short 
time before the end of his imprisonment, he makes 
a more distinct allusion to the sufferings of his in- 
carceration, than he was wont to do. " Faith and 
holiness," says he, " are my professed principles, 
with an endeavor, so far as in me lieth, to be at 
peace with all men. What shall I say ! Let mine 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 159 

enemies themselves be judges, if any thing in these 
following doctrines, or if aught that any man hath 
heard me preach, doth or hath, according to the 
true intent of my words, savored either of heresy or 
rebellion. I say again, let they themselves be 
judges, if aught they find in my writing or preach- 
ing, doth render me worthy of almost twelve years 
imprisonment, or one that deserveth to be hanged, 
or banished forever, according to their tremendous 
sentence. But if nothing will do, unless I make 
my conscience a continual butchery and slaughter- 
shop, unless putting out my own eyes, I commit me 
to the blind to lead me, as I doubt is desired by 
some, I have determined, the Almighty God being 
my help and shield, yet to suffer, if frail life 
might continue so long, even till the moss shall 
grow on mine eye-brows, rather than thus to vio- 
late my faith and principles." 

When John Bunyan was first thrown into prison, 
he found a great friend in the jailor, through whose 
kindness his confinement, previous to his last exa- 
mination, and the petition of his wife, was not at 
all rigorous. He was permitted to preach, to visit 
his friends, and even to go to London. It is re- 
lated of him, that it being known to some of the 
persecuting prelates that Bunyan was often out of 
prison, they sent down an officer to talk with the 
jailor on the subject ; and in order to find him out, 
he was to arrive there in the middle of the night. 
Bunyan was at home with his family, but so restless 
that he could not sleep. He therefore told his 
wife that he must return immediately. He did so, 
and the jailor blamed him for coming in at so un- 



160 -BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

seasonable an hour. Early in the morning the 
messenger came, and said, " Are all the prisoners 
safe?" "Yes/' "Is John Bunyan safe V* "Yes." 
" Let me see him." He was called and appeared, 
and all was well. After the messenger left, the 
jailor said to Bunyan, " Well, you may go out 
again when you think proper ; for you know when 
to return, better than I can tell you." 

Bunyan made use of his liberty at this time to 
visit his fellow Christians in London, which, says 
he, "my enemies hearing of were so angry, that they 
had almost cast my jailor out of his place, threat- 
ening to indict him, and to do what they could 
against him. They charged me also that I went 
thither to plot and raise division, and make insur- 
rection, which, God knows, was a slander ; where- 
upon my liberty was more straitened than it was 
before, so that I must not look out of the door." 
From this severe imprisonment it was that he 
wrote his Prison Meditations, dedicated to the heart 
of suffering saints and reigning sinners. From the 
character of these stanzas, we should deem it very 
probable that he had accustomed himself to scrib- 
ble in verse before his imprisonment, a habit with 
which he doubtless solaced not a few of the hours 
in his little cell. Some verses in his meditations 
upon the four last things, Death and Judgment, 
Heaven and Hell, are not wanting in beauty. His 
meditation of Heaven sprung from its vivid fore- 
tastes. 

What gladness shall possess our heart, 

When we shall see these things ! 
What light and life in every part 

Rise like eternal springs ! 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 161 

O, blessed face ; O, noly grace, 

When shall we see this day ? 
Lord, fetch us to this goodly place, 

We humbly to thee pray. 

Thus, when in heavenly harmony 

These blessed saints appear, 
Adorned with grace and majesty, 

What gladness will be there I 
Thus shall we see, thus shall we be, 

O, would the day were come I 
Lord Jesus, take us up to thee, 

To this desired home. 

Angels we also shall behold, 

When we on high ascend, 
Each shining like to men of gold, 

And on the Lord attend. 
These goodly creatures, full of grace, 

Shall stand about the throne, 
Each one with lightning in his face, 

And shall to us be known. 

There cherubim, with one accord, 

Continually do cry — 
Ah, holy, holy, holy Lord, 

And heavenly majeBty ! 
These will us in their arms embrace,. 

And welcome us to rest, 
And joy to see us clad with grace, 

And of the heavens possest. 

Doubtless it was such music in his soul, such 
visions before him, and such panting desires after 
heaven, that set him to the composition of the Pil- 
grim's Progress. He wrote a book of poems enti- 
tled, "Divine Emblems, or Temporal Things 
Spiritualized, fitted for the use of Boys and Girls." 
Some of them are very beautiful, revealing the true 
poet ; passages there are, which would not dishonor 
Chaucer or Shakspeare, and which show to what 
great excellence, as a poet, Bunyan might have 
attained, had he dedicated himself to the effort. 
What he wrote, he wrote with the utmost simplici- 
ty, and in the same pure, idiomatic language which 

21 



162 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

is so delightful in the Pilgrim's Progress. Here is 
a ballad of the child with the bird on the bush, and 
as a child's ballad, it is one of the sweetest, most 
natural things in the language. 

THE CHILD AND THE BIRD. 

My little bird, how canst thou sit 

And sing amidst so many thorns ? 
Let me but hold upon thee get, 

My love with honor thee adorns. 
Thou art at present little worth. 

Five farthings none will give for thee : 
But prithee little bird come forth, 

Thou of more value art to me. 

'Tis true, it is sunshine to-day, 

To-morrow, birds will have a storm ; 
My pretty one, come thou away, 

My bosom then shall keep thee warm. 
Thou subject art to cold o' nights, 

When darkness is thy covering ; 
At day thy danger's great by kites, 

How canst thou then sit there and sing ? 

Thy food is scarce and scanty too, 

'Tis worms and trash winch thou dost eat, 
Thy present state I pity do, 

Come, I'll provide thee better meat. 
I'll feed thee with white bread and milk, 

And sugar-plums, if thou them crave ; 
I'll cover thee with finest silk, 

That from the cold I may thee save. 

My father's palace shall be thine, 

Yea, in it thou shalt sit and sing ; 
My little bird, if thou'ltbe mine, 

The whole year round shall be thy spring. 
I'll teach thee all the notes at court, 

Unthought-of music thou shalt play, 
And all that thither do resort, 

Shall praise thee for it every day. 

I'll keep thee safe from cat and cur, 

No manner o' harm shall come to thee ; 
Yea, I will be thy succorer, 

My bosom shall thy cabin be. 
But lo, behold, the bird is gone ! 

These charmings would not make her yield ; 
The child's left at the bush alone, 

The bird flies yonder o'er the field. 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 163 



COMPARISON. 

The child of Christ an emblem is ; 

The bird to sinners I compare ; 
The thorns are like those sins of theirs, 

Which do surround them every where. 
Her songs, her food, her sunshine day, 

Are emblems of those foolish toys, 
Which to destruction leads the way, 

The fruit of worldly, empty joys. 

The arguments this child doth choose 

To draw to him a bird thus wild, 
Shows Christ familiar speech doth use 

To make the sinner reconciled. 
The bird, in that she takes her wing 

To speed her from him after all, 
Shows us vain man loves any tiling 

Much better than th i heavenly call. 



Now if this ballad had been found among the 
poems of Wordsworth, w 7 ith one or two touches of 
his peculiar coloring, it would have been regarded 
as one of his happiest examples of the artless sim- 
plicity and truth of nature. But with Bunyan these 
things were thrown off without any elaborate effort, 
in such language as he might naturally command, 
not with studied simplicity, but in such simplicity of 
style, matter and language as his childlike musings 
naturally fell into. And this constitutes their 
charm. He says himself that he could have written 
in higher strains, but he would not attempt it ; and 
well for the poetry it was that he did not ; instead 
of the childlike carelessness and naturalness, 
w T hich pleases older minds as well as children, he 
might have fallen into a stiffness and affected 
elegance, that would have pleased none. As it is, 
there is great genius and beauty in these hymns for 
infant minds. In the introduction, to the courteous 
reader, Bunyan says, in a vein of vigorous and welt 
directed satire, 



164 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

The title page will show, if thou wilt look, 
Who are the proper subjects of this book; 
They're boys and girls of all sorts and degrees, 
From those of age, to children on their knees. 
Thus comprehensive am I in my notions, 
They tempt me to it by their childish motions. 
We now have boys with beards, and girls that be 
Huge as old women, wanting gravity. 

Then do not blame me, since I thus describe 'em, 
Flatter I may not, lest thereby I bribe 'em 
To have a better judgment of themselves 
Than wise men have of babies on their shelves, 
Their antic tricks, fantastic modes and way 
Show they, like very boys and girls, do play 
With all the frantic fooleries of the age, 
And that in open view as on a stage. 
Our bearded men do act like beardless boys, 
Our women please themselves with childish toys. 

Our ministers long time by word and pen 
Dealt with them, counting them not boys but men ; 
They shot their thunders at them, and their toys, 
But hit them not, for they were girls and boys, 
The better charged, the wilder still they shot, 
Or else so high, these dwarfs they touched not. 
Instead of men, they found them girls and boys, 
To nought addicted but to childish toys. 

I repeat it, that this is pleasant, good natured, 
and instructive satire ; its vein of strong sense and 
native humor may remind us of our elder, early 
poets, whom, indeed, Bunyan in his poetry re- 
sembles not a little, and with whom he would have 
taken the highest rank as a poet, had Divine Pro- 
vidence directed his native gifts to be developed 
that way. Bunyan apologizes for seeming to play 
the fool, that he might, like Paul, by all means, gain 
some, and he hopes that even men of graver fancies 
may possibly be taken by his homely rhymes. 

Some, I persuade me, will be finding fault, 
Concluding, here I trip, and there I halt ; 
No doubt some could those grovelling notions raise 
By fine-spun terms, that challenge might the bays, 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 165 

Should all be forced to hsy their brains aside, 

That cannot regulate the glowing tide 

By this or that man's fancy, we should have 

The wise unto the fool become a slave. 

What, though my text seems mean, my morals be 

Grave, as if fetched from a sublimer tree ! 

And if some better handle can a fly, 

Than some a text, wherefore should we deny, 

Their making proof or good experiment 

Of smallest things great mischiefs to prevent. 

I could, were I so pleased, use higher strains, 
And for applause on tenters stretch my brains ; 
But what needs that \ The arrow out of sight 
Does not the sleeper nor the watchman fright ; 
To shoot too high doth make but children gaze ; 
'Tis that which hits the man doth him amaze. 

As for the inconsiderableness 
Of things, by which I do my mind express ; 
May I by them bring some good thing to pass, 
As Samson, with the jaw bone of an ass ; 
Or as brave Shamgar with his ox's goad, 
(Both things unmanly, not for war in mode,) 
I have my end, though I myself expose, 
For God will have the glory at the close. 

This was ever Bunyan's disinterestedness and 
forgetfulness of self. So he might glorify God, it 
was no matter what became of his own reputation, 
his own will. Human applause he sought not, and 
while writing the most original work of genius pro- 
duced in his age, he wrote with an absolute uncon- 
sciousness of fame, and a disregard of it, such as 
marked the character of no other writer of the 
period. Baxter was an eminently holy man, and 
his mind wrought under holy influences, but never 
with such unconsciousness of greatness, such for- 
getfulness of self. Yet the maxim of both was, 
To God alone be the glory ! 

These Divine Emblems, of which I have spoken, 
are much in the manner of Quarles, whose poetry 
Bunyan may have been acquainted with, as the 



166 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

Puritans were fond of it, and who died while 
Bunyan was in prison. Some of them remind us 
of the significant things seen by Christian in the 
house of the Interpreter. It was thus that Bunyan 
filled up his vacant seasons, and with various 
sweetness recreated himself in prison. While he 
was musing, the fire burned. When he began his 
Pilgrim's Progress, he was surprised into it, for 
he was writing another book, which he had nearly 
finished, but as he was penning some things con- 
cerning the race of the saints in the day of the 
gospel, his thoughts fell suddenly into the form 
of an allegory in a number of particulars, which 
he put down ; these grew into more, and again con- 
tinued to multiply, as he was attracted from fancy 
to fancy, and still he wrote them down, till he said 
within himself, If I go on at this rate, it will be 
ad infinitum, and I shall never finish the book 
I am already about. Wherefore my thick-coming 
fancies I'll put you by yourselves, and when I have 
leisure from the work I have undertaken, then I 
will return to you. 

Thus his work so produced, came to be the 
pure, artless, spontaneous creation of piety and 
genius. There was scarcely a conscious effort 
in the writing of it ; nay, rather a restraint of 
its exquisite sweetness, till such moments as he 
could attend to and take down the lovely images, 
the fervent thoughts, that were crowding one 
another in his mind, and seeking for utterance. 
It was but for him to say the word, to say to 
himself, Now my favorite meditations I release 
you; and suddenly as songsters from a cage, his 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 167 

thoughts flew from him, as has been beautifully 
said of Dr. Payson's conversation, in every pos- 
sible variety of beauty and harmony, like birds from 
a South American forest. His vivid imagination 
filled his lonely cell with these realities; and it 
would appear that only when he was alone did his 
genius brood over this sacred work ; in secrecy and 
silence did he pursue it ; it was a joy of his heart, 
with which heaven itself mingled, and lent its own 
blessedness, but with which no stranger could in- 
termeddle. 

That this was the manner of the suggestion and 
production of this great work of genius, is clear 
from Bunyan's own amusing and instructive pre- 
face ; and it is one of the most curious things in 
all the history of literature, to be admitted thus into 
the secret developments of spontaneous genius in 
a great writer's mind, on a work, the subject of 
which possesses the writer as with the power of an 
angel, instead of being possessed by him ; carries 
him away with its sweetness, bears him up upon 
its wings, as a child in a dream, and moves him 
swiftly through the luminous air, gazing at the 
divinely colored pictures painted upon it. So was 
Bunyan borne upward as on eagles' wings, both by 
the Spirit of God, and by the power of that natural 
genius, which was the gift of God ; and I may add, 
by the exciting celestial beauty of a subject, which 
kindles the heart of the simplest Christian with 
enthusiasm, and shapes, for the time being, a poet 
in the plainest mind. All this, without difficulty, 
you may read under cover of Bunyan's rude 
rhymes, which are good, unadulterate Saxon, and 



168 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

full of genuine simplicity and humor, though he 
scorned attempting to make them more elegant. 

When at the first I took my pen in hand, 
Thus for to write, I did not understand 
That I at all should make a little book 
In such a mode ; nay, I had undertook 
To make another ; which, when almost done, 
Before I was aware, I thus begun. 

And thus it was : I writing of the way 
And race of saints in this our gospel-day, 
Fell suddenly into an allegory, 
About their journey, and the way to glory, 
In more than twenty things, which I set down : 
This done, I twenty more had in my crown, 
And they again began to multiply, 
Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. 
Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, 
I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last, 
Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out 
The book that I already am about. 

Well, so I did ; but yet I did not think 
To show to all the world my pen and ink 
In such a mode ; I only thought to make 
I knew not what ; nor did I undertake 
Thereby to please my neighbor ; no, not I, 
I did it mine own self to gratify. 

Neither did I but vacant seasons spend 
In this my scribble ; nor did I intend 
But to divert myself in doing this, 
From worser thoughts, which make me do amiss. 

Thus I set pen to paper with delight, 
And quickly had my thoughts in black and white. 
For having now my method by the end, 
Still as I pulPd it came ; and so I penn'd 
It down, until at last it came to be, 
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see. 

Well, when I thus had put my ends together, 
I show'd them others, that I might see whether 
They would condemn them, or them justify ; 
And some said, Let him live ; some, Let him die : 
Some said, John, print it ; others said, Not so. 
Some said, It might do good ; others said, No. 

Now I was in a strait, and did not see 
Which was the best thing to be done by me ; 
At last I thought, since you are thus divided, 
I print it will ; and so the case decided. 

And how could it have been decided otherwise? 
Bunyan proceeds with an ingenious and amusing 



BUNYAN IN PRISON. 169 

apology and justification for using similitudes. 
Gold, pearls, and precious stones worth digging 
for, he thought might fitly be put into an allegory ; 
and truth, even in swaddling clothes, as a sweet 
laughing babe, might win upon the mind, inform 
the judgment, make the will submissive, and fill the 
memory with things pleasant to the imagination. 
There is refreshing water in dark clouds, when 
there is none at all in bright ones ; and when their 
silver drops descend, then the earth yieldeth her 
ripe harvest. A fisherman goes patiently up and 
down the river-side, and engages all his wits to 
catch a few nibbles, with snares, lines, angles, 
hooks and nets ; all stratagems he uses for the 
silly fish. So doth the fowler for the birds ; one 
can scarce name the variety of his means, his gun, 
his nets, his line-twigs, light and bell ; one can 
scarce tell the variety of his postures ; he creeps, 
he goes, he stands, he pipes and whistles. So shall 
he, who wisely seeks to catch men, speak dia- 
logue-wise, parable-wise, in prose and poetry, in 
fxgures, metaphors, and meaning fables ; in cunning 
cabinets and mantles he shall enclose truth's golden 
beams ; he shall set his apples of gold in pictures 
of silver. 

Yea. let Truth be free 
To make her sallies upon thee and me, 
Which way it pleases God. 

So Bunyan thought, and would not check the vari- 
ty of his fancies, though some would-be critics 
laughed at their simplicity, and some were offended 
at their novelty. Yet he knew he might write in 

such a method, and not miss his end, which was 

22 



170 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

the good of his readers ; and so he wrote, and so 
he published, committing all to God. The close 
of his preface is very beautiful, and would to God 
that every man who reads, might, according to 
Bunyan's directions, lay the book, the head, and 
the heart together, and so follow the pilgrim from 
the City of Destruction to the City of Immanuel ! 

This book will make a traveller of thee, 
If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be ; 
It will direct thee to the holy land, 
If thou wilt its directions understand ; 
Yea, it will make the slothful active be ; 
The blind also delightful things to see. 

Art thou for something rare and profitable ? 
Or wouldst thou see a truth within a fable ? 
Art thou forgetful ? or wouldst thou remember 
From new-year's day to the last of December I 
Then read my fancies ; they will stick like burrs, 
And may be to the helpless comforters. 
This book is wrote in such a dialect, 
As may the minds of listless men affect : 
It seems a novelty, and yet contains 
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains. 

Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy ? 
Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly ? 
Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation ? 
Or else be drowned in thy contemplation ? 
Dost thou love picking meat 1 or wouldst thou see 
A man i' th' clouds, and hear him speak to thee ? 
Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep ? 
Or, wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep 1 
Or, wouldst thou lose thyself, and catch no harm ; 
And find thyself again without a charm ? 
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou know'st not what, 
And yet know whether thou art bless'd or not, 
By reading the same lines ? O, then come hither ! 
And lay my book, thy head and heart together. 

A great characteristic of original genius, perhaps 
its greatest proof, and one which Bunyan possessed 
in common with Shakspeare, is its spontaneous 
exertion ; the evidence of having written without 
labor, and without the consciousness of doing any 
thing remarkable, or the ambitious aim of perform- 



BUNYAN IN PKISON. 171 

in£ a great work. The thought, " How will this 
please ?" has little or no power as a motive, nor is 
it suggested to such minds : the greatest efforts of 
genius seem as natural to it, as it is for common 
men to breathe. In this view, Bunyan's work 
comes nearer to the inspired poetry of the Hebrews 
in its character, than any other human compo- 
sition. He wrote from the impulse of his ge- 
nius, sanctified and illuminated by a heavenly 
influence ; and its movements were as artless as 
the movements of a little child left to play upon the 
green by itself; as if, indeed, he had exerted no 
voluntary supervision whatever over its exercise. 
Every thing is as natural and unconstrained, as if 
there had been no other breather in this world but 
himself, no being, to whose inspection the work he 
was producing could ever possibly be exhibited, 
and no rule or model, with which it could ever be 
compared. 

We can imagine this suffering Christian and un- 
conscious Poet in the gloom of his prison, solacing 
his mind with his own visions, as they came in, one 
after another, like heavenly pictures, to his imagina- 
tion. They were so pleasant, that he could not 
but give them reality, and when he found how they 
accumulated, the first did the ideal of the Pilgrim's 
Progress rise before his view. Then did he, with 
the pervading, informing, and transfusing power 
of genius, melt the materials and mould them into 
shape. He put the pictures into one grand allego- 
ry, with the meaning of heaven shining over the 
whole, and a separate interest and beauty in every 
separate part. It is an allegory conducted with 



172 BUNYAN IN PRISON. 

such symmetry and faithfulness, that it never tires 
in its examination, but discloses continually new 
meaning to the mind, and speaks to the heart of 
the Pilgrim volumes of mingled encouragement, 
warning, and instruction. 

And how precious is the volume, which thus 
stores the nursery as well as the shelves of the the- 
ologian, with wholesome learning ; which brings 
the divinest mysteries of grace into the quick con- 
science and soft heart of childhood, even before the 
understanding is prepared to receive and ponder 
their grave teachings ! This is the point of Cow- 
per's beautiful apostrophe to Bunyan. 

thou, whom, borne on fancy's eager wing, 
Back to the season of life's happy spring, 

1 pleased remember, and while memory yet 
Holds fast her office here, can ne'er forget; 
Ingenious Dreamer ! in whose well-told tale, 
Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail ; 
Whose humorous vein, strong sense, and simple style. 
May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile j 
Witty, and well employed, and like thy Lord, 
Speaking in parables his slighted word ; 

I name thee not, lest so despised a name 
Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame. 
Yet e'en in transitory life's late day, 
That mingles all my brown with sober gray, 
Revere the man, whose Pilgrim marks the road 
And guides the Progress of the soul to God ; 
'Twere well with most, if books that could engage 
Their childhood, pleased them at a riper age ; 
The man, approving what had charmed the boy, 
Would die at last in comfort, peace, and joy ; 
And not with curses on his heart, who stole 
The gem of truth from his unguarded soul. 



PROVIDENCE, GRACE, 
AND GENIUS, 

IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 



Illustrations of Divine Providence in selecting Bunyan to write the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress. — Weak things chosen to confound the mighty.— -The Author of the Pilgrim's 
Progress selected not from the Establishment, but from without it. — Signal rebuke 
of ecclesiastical exclusiveness and hierarchical pretensions, in the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress and the Saint's Rest. — More of Bunyan's Divine Emblems. — Bunyan's release 
from prison. — His release from life, and entrance into the Celestial City. — Dr. 
Scott's opinion of the Pilgrim's Progress. — Its entire freedom from Sectarianism. — 
Its universality both in genius and piety. — Comparison between Bunyan's Pilgrim's 
Progress, and Edwards on the Religious Affections. — Bunyan and Spenser. — Sur- 
vey of the Events, Characters, and Scenery in the Pilgrim's Progress. — The splen- 
dor of its conclusion. 

We meet in the life of Bunyan some of the most 
remarkable illustrations to be found any where on 
record, of the manner in which God hath chosen 
the weak things of the world to confound the 
mighty, and base things of the world, and things 
which are despised, and things which are not, to 
bring to nought things that are ; to abase the pride, 
and rebuke the pretensions of all human glory. 
Bunyan's preaching, which was the means of 
the conversion of so many souls, how utterly 
despised and counted like insanity was it, by all 
the wise, the noble, the esteemed of this world ! 
And Bunyan's Allegory, when it first appeared, 
23 



174 PROVIDENCE, GRACE AND GENIUS, 

with how much contempt was it regarded, as a sort 
of story or ballad for the vulgar, by the lords, gen- 
tlemen, and ecclesiastics of the age. If any pro- 
phet in those days could have gone to the bishop 
and justices, under whose jurisdiction Bunyan was 
thrust into the common jail, and left twelve years 
in prison, and could have said, My lords, there is 
one John Bunyan, formerly a tinker, and now a 
tagged lace-maker in a cell in the prison of Bed- 
ford, imprisoned by your lordships for preaching 
the Gospel, who hath composed and published an 
allegory which shall work more to the accomplish- 
ment of God's councils, and to the establishment 
of sound piety and morality, and to the usefulness 
and glory of the literature of this kingdom, than 
all that your lordships, with all the preachers and 
authors in this civil and ecclesiastical circuit, shall 
have accomplished in your whole life-time ; he 
would have been regarded as void of under- 
standing, if not imprisoned for contempt of the 
higher authorities. 

And yet, such a prophet would have spoken but 
the simple truth ; for into how many languages 
this book hath been translated, no man can tell, 
and how many editions it has passed through, still 
less many any man enumerate, nor how many 
souls it may have guided to eternal glory. It has 
gone almost wherever the Bible has gone, and has 
left the stamp of the best part of English literature, 
where neither Milton nor Shakspeare were ever 
heard of. Indeed, it may doubtless be said of 
Bunyan as of that woman of sacred memory in 
the New Testament, Wherever this Gospel shall 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 175 

be preached in all the world, there shall that, 
which this man hath done for Christ, be told for a 
memorial of him. The alabaster-box of very pre- 
cious ointment, which that woman poured upon the 
Savior's head was an unutterably precious offering, 
because her heart went with it ; but this alabaster- 
box of genius and piety, the fruit of these twelve 
years' imprisonment, was the work, both the offer- 
ing itself and the feelings with which it was offered, 
equally of Bunyan's heart, filled with love to the 
same Saviour. And wherever the Bible goes, 
doubtless, in all time, this book will follow it. 

As the book itself is an illustration of this great 
principle of God's administration, so was his own 
selection of Bunyan as his instrument to do so 
mighty a work. Disregarding the claims of great 
establishments and mighty hierarchies, passing by 
the gorgeous state religions of the world and all 
their followers, passing the Archbishop of Canter- 
bury, and the See of London, and the great con- 
secrated shrines of applauded genius and piety, 
.even the genius of Milton, and the pulpits of 
Jeremy Taylor, and Howe and Usher, and the 
wise and mighty and noble together, he entered the 
prison cell in Bedford, and poured this unction of 
his Spirit upon John Bunyan, and touched his lips 
alone with this hallowed fire, and dipped his pen 
alone in these colors of heaven. There were as 
great beasts, if not of the apostolical succession, at 
least of the Ecclesiastical Establishment, in those 
days as in this ; and God saw that a lordly hier- 
archy, and many a lordly bishop, were proclaiming 
to all the world this lie, that there could be no 



176 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

lawful worship of God, and no true church of 
Christ, without a prayer book and prelatical con- 
secration, without episcopacy, confirmation, and a 
liturgy ; but all this was as wood, hay and stubble ; 
and Divine Providence selected, to make the 
brightest jewel of the age as a Christian, a minister, 
and a writer, a member of the then obscure, per- 
secuted, and despised sect of Baptists. He took 
John Bunyan ; but he did not remove him from the 
Baptist church of Christ into what men said was 
the only true church ; he kept him shining in that 
Baptist candlestick all his life-time ; for what is it 
to Christ whether a man be Baptist, Methodist, 
Congregationalist, Presbyterian, Independent, or 
Episcopalian, so he be but a true follower of the 
Saviour, so he lord it not over God's heritage, nor 
be guilty of schism in consigning to God's un- 
covenanted mercies, in defiance of all Christian 
charity, those whom the Saviour holds as dear as 
the apple of his eye l What are these sectarian 
shibboleths to Christ, if his people will but walk 
according to this rule, which was a text of favorite 
note with Bunyan, By this shall all men know that 
ye are my disciples, if ye love one another ! My 
disciples, not members of this or that sectarian per- 
suasion, be it Episcopal, Baptist, Presbyterian, or 
what not. My disciples, not Church-men, nor 
Paul's-men, nor Rome's men, but my disciples. 

All gorgeous and prelatical establishments God 
passed by, and selected the greatest marvel and 
miracle of grace and genius in all the modern age 
from the Baptist church in Bedford ! If this be 
not a rebuke and a refutation of that absurd moc- 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 177 

kery, " the apostolical succession," and all pre- 
tensions like it, we know not how Divine Pro- 
vidence could construct one. It is just as clear as 
the Saviour's own personal rebuke of the same 
intolerant proud spirit in his day ; and the feeling 
with which its application is received by the pre- 
tenders to the only true church in our day is re- 
markably similar. " I tell you of a truth, many 
widows were in Israel in the days of Elias, when 
the heaven was shut up three years and six months, 
when great famine was throughout all the land ; 
but unto none of them was Elias sent, save unto 
Sarepta, a city of Sidon, unto a woman that was 
a widow. And many lepers were in Israel in 
the time of Eliseus the prophet, ; and none of 
them was cleansed saving Naaman the Syrian. And 
all they in the synagogue when they heard these 
things were filled with wrath, and rose up, and 
thrust him out of the city, and led him unto the 
brow of the hill, whereon their city was built, that 
they might cast him down headlong !" Why, what 
mighty evil hath our blessed Lord done to awaken 
this dreadful hell of wrath and malignity in this 
synagogue of satan 1 He hath simply told them 
that their church was no longer to be the only 
true church of Christ on earth, but that he was 
going to preach to the gentiles! And the wick- 
edness of this Jewish hierarchy is but a specimen 
of the wickedness which this pretence of being the 
only true church inevitably sets in motion and 
brings with it, wherever such a pretended true 
church can get the power to enforce its excom- 
munications. It will lead our blessed Lord him- 



178 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

self to the brow of the hill, and cast him down 
headlong, if he visit this earth in a conventicle, 
if he come to any other than an Established 
Church. 

The same principle thus marvelously illustrated 
in the life of Bunyan, was that by which God passed 
by the many thousands of Israel of loftier genealo- 
gy and prouder claims, and fixed upon David the 
son of Jesse, the keeper of his father's flock in the 
wilderness, and anointed and crowned him King 
of Israel ; passed by also the great towns and 
beautiful cities of Judea, and Jerusalem itself, and 
fixed upon Bethlehem as the birth-place of our 
Saviour ; passed by also the learned and excellent, 
the princes and scholars of the land, when he 
would found a new spiritual kingdom to last for 
ever, and took the fishermen and the tax-gatherers ; 
and to step out of sacred history once more, into 
common, in a case in some respects of great simi- 
larity to Bunyan's own, passed by the godliest 
learned men of honor, title and rank, and chose a 
chaplain in Oliver Cromwell's parliamentary army 
to write the Saint's Rest. The two greatest, most 
important, most efficacious spiritual works the world 
has ever seen, written by men cast out, persecuted, 
imprisoned, as not being members of the true 
church, as not conforming to the will of the Esta- 
blished hierarchy ! The world is full of these 
blessed instances of God's wisdom to cast down the 
pride of man, and abase his pretensions, that no 
flesh may glory in his presence. And as to these 
hierarchical arrogancies, it would seem that Divine 
Wisdom itself could resort to no expedient more 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 179 

sure to put them to shfeme, than when the Holy 
Spirit takes up his abode, and displays his glory, 
in beings cast out, persecuted, imprisoned, and 
burned, by such bigotry and violence. The great 
overshadowing, remorseless, hierarchical unity 
of the Church, when it is any thing else but 
unity in the possession and exercise of the Spirit 
of Christ, becomes a destructive unity of evil, a 
unity of ambition, consecrated under the name of 
religion, a unity of earthly power and aggrandize- 
ment, in which the passion of universal conquest, 
that like a chariot of fire whirled a Nimrod or Na- 
poleon over the world, kindles in the bosom of 
church-men, and makes out of the church itself 
the most perfect, awful form of despotism. It is 
such a dreadful unity, that has anathematised and 
destroyed some of the brightest temples of the Holy 
Ghost, out of which God has shined in this world 
of darkness. It was indeed this remorseless, des- 
potic, persecuting unity, to which our blessed Lord 
himself was sacrificed, to prevent a schism in the 
Jewish hierarchy. But under whatever form, 
save that of love to Christ, and participation in his 
spirit, this unity is vaunted, it becomes an unhal- 
lowed, worldly, vain, ambitious boast ; and powder- 
fully, indeed, are its pretensions shown to be vanity, 
when God raises up, beyond its precincts, such men 
as Baxter and Bunyan, Owen and Doddridge, Ca- 
lamy and Howe, Brainard and Edwards, Payson 
and D wight. Rather let every Christian be in him- 
self a separate sect, than the church of Christ a 
compulsory despotism. 

And how may we suppose the great Head of 



180 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

the church regards such daring presumption, whe- 
ther under pretence of apostolical succession or 
prelatical consecration, that shuts out such men 
from the church of Christ on earth, and gives them 
over even to God's uncovenanted mercies in Hea- 
ven 1 Merely the statement of such pretensions is 
enough to show how opposed they are to the spirit 
of the gospel. If a desire to spread that gospel, 
and to bring all men into the fold of Christ had 
prevailed, or were now prevalent, we should hear 
nothing of such pretensions ; if that unity of love 
existed, which our blessed Lord requires, and 
without which all other unity is worthless, there 
would be the kindest charity and piety, but no pride ; 
Christians would, as Paul requires, receive one 
another, but not to doubtful disputations ; and all 
sects would be found vying with each other, not to 
spread their own name, but the knowledge of the 
gospel ; not to eject each other from the missionary 
field, but to fill the world with love and mercy. We 
trust in God that this spirit shall prevail over every 
other, and when it does, then will be the time, when 
there shall be nothing to hurt nor destroy in all 
God's holy mountain. 

The prison hours of such men as Bunyan have 
done much to bring the full blessedness of such a pe- 
riod, and out of Bunyan's prison shone much of that 
rosy light, that in the morning of the Reformation is 
more romantically beautiful, than even the clear 
shining of the sun at noon. His prison work was 
one of the stars, co-herald with the dawn, reflecting 
the Sun of Righteousness, but struggling w 7 ith the 
darkness all night long. If, during his confinement, 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 181 

he wrote those Divine Emblems, of which I have 
spoken, as is very probable, there was calm, sweet 
light, shining out of the soul of the true poet, 
hidden, as by God's mercy, in a pavilion from 
the strife of tongues. As the tuneful bird of 
night sits even amidst the rain, and sings darkling, 
so the heart of Bunyan sang, while the storm raged 
round his prison ; nay, it may be said of him, as 
of Luther, that he poured the music of truth from 
his soul as from a church organ. I could pre- 
sent some of his finished pieces in verse, that 
may well be compared with the best of our elder 
poets, and that, contrasted with the doggrel of his 
early days, show an intellectual transformation as 
wonderful, almost, as his spiritual new creation. 
And yet, I must remark, in regard to those rude 
verses, which, with such inconceivably bad spelling, 
and with such cramped and distorted chirography, 
Bunyan used to write in the margin of his old copy 
of Fox's Book of Martyrs, that they do not make 
upon the mind the impression of that word doggrel ; 
the mint out of which they fall is too sacred for 
that, and the metal, though wrought with such ex- 
treme rudeness, manifestly too precious. As we 
gaze upon that chirography, in connection with 
the martyrdom that excited the passionate emotion 
of the writer, we seem to see the very soul of Bunyan 
impressing, as with the point of a diamond, in the 
only language he then knew how to command, the 
hieroglyphics of the martyr's spirit in his own 
bosom. Those verses are as Indian arrows, tipped 
with flint, in comparison with a rifle inlaid with 

24 



182 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

gold ; but they are more than curious ; there is 
vigor in them, and fire of the soul. 

If the following emblems (in addition to those 
I have before referred to) be taken as specimens 
of what fancies the poet could play with for the 
prisoner's amusement, there is no good critic but 
will recognize in them the elements of a true 
poetical genius. Who, for example, in Bunyan's 
stanzas upon the sun's reflection on the clouds in 
a fair morning, will not irresistibly be reminded 
of Milton's beautiful image in the Mask of Comus? 

Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud 
Turn forth her silver lining on the night. 

Bunyan, certainly, never imitated any living 
creature, nor the writings of any genius, living 
or dead ; yet there are passages, that, with the 
exception of the recurrence of " grace" or similar 
religious phrases, formed in a very different school 
from that of the poets of this world, might be 
deemed to have been cut directly from the pages 
even of such a writer as Shakspeare. Juliet, 
looking from her window, might have uttered the 
following lines, had her thoughts been upon such 
sacred things as the prayer of the saints. 



Look yonder ! ah, methinks mine eyes do see 
Clouds edged with silver, as fine garments be ! 
They look as if they saw the golden face, 
That makes black clouds most beautiful with grace. 

Unto the saints' sweet incense of their prayer 
These smoky curled clouds I do compare ; 
For as these clouds seem edged or laced with gold, 
Their prayers return with blessings manifold. 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 183 

Remark also the beauty of the following lines upon 
the rising of the sun : 

Look how brave Sol doth peep up from beneath. 
Shows us his golden face, doth on us breathe ; 
Yea, he doth compass us around with glories 
Whilst he ascends up to his highest stories, 
Where he his banner over us displays, 
And gives us light to see our works and ways. 

Nor are w r e now as at the peep of light, 
To question is it day, or is it night ; 
The night is gone, the shadow's fled away, 
And now we are most certain that 'tis day. 

And thus it is when Jesus shows his face, 
And doth assure us of his love and grace. 

Take also the following very beautiful moral upon 
the promising fruitfulness of a tree. Who could 
have written in purer language, or with more terse- 
ness and graphic simplicity ? 

A comely sight indeed it is to see, 
A world of blossoms on an apple-tree : 
Yet far more comely would this tree appear, 
If all its dainty blooms young apples were ; 
But how much more might one upon it see, 
If each would hang there till it ripe should be. 
But most of all in beauty, 'twould abound, 
If every one should then be truly sound. 

But we alas ! do commonly behold 
Blooms fall apace, if mornings be but cold. 
They too which hang till they young apples are, 
By blasting winds and vermin take despair. 
Store that do hang while almost ripe, we see, 
By blust'ring winds are shaken from the tree. 

So that of many, only some there be, 
That grow and thrive to full maturity. 

C OMPAE.ISON. 

This tree a perfect emblem is of those 
Which do the garden of the Lord compose. 

Its blasted blooms are motions unto good, 
Which chill affections nip in the soft bud. 



184 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

Those little apples which yet blasted are, 
Show some good purposes, no good fruit bear. 
Those spoil'd by vermin are to let us see 
How good attempts by bad thoughts ruin'd be. 

Those which the wind blows down while they are green, 
Show good works have by trials spoiled been. 
Those that abide while ripe, upon the tree, 
Show, in a good man, some ripe fruit will be. 

Behold then how abortive some fruits are, 
Which at the first most promising appear. 
The frost, the wind, the worm, with time doth show, 
There flow from much appearance works but few. 

I may add to these extracts the following 
emblem upon a snail, very much in the manner of 
our elder poets, and with an exquisite religious 
moral, which you might look far to discover in 
English poetry, and not find at all, or not find so 
simply and so well expressed. 

She goes but softly, but she goeth sure, 
She stumbles not, as stronger creatures do ; 

Her journey's shorter, so she may endure 
Better than they which do much further go. 

She makes no noise, but stilly seizeth on 
The flow'r or herb, appointed for her food ; 

The which she quietly doth feed upon, 
While others range and glare, but find no good. 

And tho' she doth but very softly go, 

However slow her pace be, yet 'tis sure : 
And certainly they that do travel so, 

The prize which they do aim at, they procure. 

Altho' they seem not much to stir or go, 
Who thirst for Christ, and who from wrath do flee, 

Yet what they seek for, quickly they come to, 
Tho' it does seem the farthest off* to be. 

One act of faith doth bring them to that flow'r 
They so long for that they may eat and live, 

Which to attain is not in others' power, 

Tho' for it a king's ransom they would give. 

Then let none faint, nor be at all dismay 'd, 
That life by Christ do seek, they shall not fail 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 185 

To have it ; let them .lothing be afraid : 
The herb and flow'r are eaten by the snail. 

In the collection of Bunyan's poetical pieces in 
his works there are some very thoughtful and 
vigorous stanzas, entitled, A Caution to Stir up to 
Watch against Sin. They may very probably be 
ranked along with the Divine Emblems, as the 
production of his prison hours. The following 
lines are powerful. 

Sin is the living worm, the lasting fire ; 

Hell soon would lose its heat, could sin expire. 

Better sinless in hell, than to be where 

Heaven is, and to be found a sinner there. 

One sinless with infernals might do well, 

But sin would make of heaven a very hell. 
Look to thyself then, keep it out of door, 
Lest it get in and never leave thee more. 

No match has sin but God in all the world, 
Men, angels, has it from their station hurled ; 
Holds them in chains, as captives, in despite 
Of all that here below is called might. 
Release, help, freedom from it none can give, 
But even he, by whom we breathe and live. 

Watch, therefore, keep this giant out of door, 
Lest, if once in, thou get Mm out no more. 

Fools make a mock at sin, will not believe 
It carries such a dagger hi its sleeve ; 
How can it be, say they, that such a thing, 
So full of sweetness, e'er should wear a sting I 
They know not that it is the very spell 
Of sin, to make men laugh themselves to hell. 
Look to thyself then, deal with sin no more, 
Lest he that saves, against thee shuts the door. 

In the prose works of Bunyan there are here and 
there passages, which, had he put them into rhyme, 
would have made exquisite poems. Such, for 
example, is the following paragraph, which one 
might suppose to have been cut from the pages 
of the holy Leighton, so much do the spirit, the 



186 PROVIDENCE, GRACE AND GENIUS 

language, and the imagery resemble his. " I have 
thus written," says Bunyan, speaking of his work 
on Christian Behaviour, " because it is amiable 
and pleasant to God, when Christians keep their 
rank, relation, and station, doing all as becomes 
their quality and calling. When Christians stand 
every one in their places, and do the work of their 
relations, then they are like the flowers in the 
garden, that stand and grow where the gardener 
hath planted them, and then they shall both honor 
the garden in which they are planted, and the 
gardener that hath so disposed of them. From 
the hyssop in the wall to the cedar in Lebanon, 
their fruit is their glory. And seeing the stock 
into which we are planted is the fruitfulest stock, 
the sap conveyed thereout the fruitfulest sap, 
and the dresser of our souls the wisest hus- 
bandman, how contrary to nature, to example, and 
expectation we should be, if we should not be rich 
in good works. Wherefore, take heed of being 
painted fire, wherein is no warmth ; and painted 
flowers, which retain no smell, and of being painted 
trees, whereon is no fruit. Whoso boasteth himself 
of a false gift, is like clouds and wind without rain. 
Farewell ! The Lord be with thy spirit, that thou 
mayest profit for time to come." 

In the same work on Christian Behaviour he 
says beautifully, " It is the ordinance of God that 
Christians should be often asserting the things of 
God each to others, and that by their so doing they 
should edify one another. The doctrine of the gos- 
pel is like the dew and the small rain, that distilleth 
upon the tender grass, wherewith it doth flourish, 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 187 

and is kept green. Christians are like the several 
flowers in a garden, that have upon each of them 
the dew of heaven, which being shaken by the 
wind, they let fall their dew at each other's roots, 
whereby they are jointly nourished, and become 
nourishers of one another. For Christians to com- 
mune savorily of God's matters one with another is 
as if they opened to each other's nostrils boxes of 
perfume. Saith Paul to the church at Rome, I long- 
to see you, that I may impart unto you some spi- 
ritual gift, to the end that you may be established ; 
that is, that I may be comforted together with you, 
by the mutual faith both of you and me." 

" Thus have I, in few words, written to you 
before I die, a word to provoke you to faith and ho- 
liness, because I desire that you may have the life 
that is laid up for all them that believe in the Lord 
Jesus, and love one another, when I am deceased. 
Though there I shall rest from my labors, and be 
in Paradise, as through grace I comfortably be- 
lieve, but it is not there, but here, I must do you 
good. Wherefore I, not knowing the shortness of 
my life, nor the hinderance that hereafter I may 
have of serving my God and you, I have taken this 
opportunity to present these few lines unto you for 
your edification. Consider what hath been said, 
and the Lord give you understanding in all things. 
Farewell !" 

How beautiful is the spirit here manifested, how 
full of the sweet charity of the gospel, and of 
what sweet simplicity and beauty are the thoughts 
and images here expressed ! It is not there in heaven, 
but here on earth, that I must do you good. We are 



188 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

reminded of Paul's language, To abide in the flesh 
is more needful for you. Infinitely desirable is 
such a blessed hope of heaven, as shall make the 
Christian desire to depart and be with Christ, and 
shall, at the same time, quicken and animate and 
fill with blessedness all his efforts for the good of 
others. 

In that ingenious work of Bunyan, entitled, 
" Solomon's Temple Spiritualized," there are pas- 
sages of exquisite beauty and significancy. Take, 
for example, the two following extracts, the first in 
regard to the Gates of the Porch of the Temple, 
the second in regard to the Pinnacles of the Tem- 
ple ; and see the ingenuity and beauty of the au- 
thor of the Pilgrim's Progress, in other modes of 
allegorizing besides that of the great admired pro- 
duction of his genius. 

Of the Gates of the Porch of the Temple. 

The porch, at which was an ascent to the temple, had a gate 
belonging to it. This gate, according to the prophet Ezekiel, was 
six cubits wide. The leaves of this gate were double, one folding 
this way, the other folding that. Ezek. xl. 48. 

Now here some may object, and say, Since the way to God by 
these doors were so wide, why doth Christ say, the way and gate 
is narrow ? 

Ans. The straitness, the narrowness, must not be understood of 
the gate simply, but because of that cumber that some men carry 
with them, that pretend to be going to heaven. Six cubits ! What 
is sixteen cubits to him who would enter in here with all the world 
on his back 1 The young man in the Gospel, who made such a 
noise for heaven, might have gone in easy enough ; for in six cu- 
bits breadth there is room : but, poor man ! he was not for going in 
thither, unless he might carry in his houses upon his shoulder too, 
and so the gate was strait. Mark x. 17-23. 



IJN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM^ PROGESS. 189 

Wherefore he that will enter ir at the gate of heaven, of which 
this gate into the temple was a type, must go in by himself, and 
not with his bundles of trash. on his back ; and if he will go in 
thus, he need not fear there is room. The righteous nation that 
keepeth the truth, they shall enter in. 

They that enter at the gate of the inner court, must be clothed 
in fine linen ; how then shall they go into the temple that carry the 
clogs of the dirt of this world at their heels ? Thus saith the Lord, 
" No stranger uncircumcised in heart, or uncircumcised in flesh 
shall enter into my sanctuary." 

The wideness therefore of this gate, is for this cause here made 
mention of, to wit, to encourage them that would gladly enter 
thereat, according to the mind of God, and not to flatter them that 
are not for leaving of all for God. 

Wherefore let such as would go in remember that here is 
room, even a gate to enter at, six cubits wide. We have been 
all this while but on the outside of the temple, even in the courts 
of the house of the Lord, to see the beauty and glory that is there. 
The beauty hereof made men cry out, and say, " How amiable are 
thy tabernacles, O Lord of hosts ! my soul longeth, yea, fainteth 
for the courts of the Lord ;" and to say, "A day in thy courts is 
better than a thousand." 

Of the Pinnacles of the Temple. 

There was also several pinnacles belonging to the temple. 
These pinnacles stood on the top aloft in the air, and were sharp, 
and so difficult to stand upon : what men say of their number and 
length, I waive, and come directly to their signification. 

I therefore take those pinnacles to be types of those lofty, airy 
notions, with which some delight themselves, while they hover like 
birds above the solid and godly truths of Christ. Satan attempted 
to entertain Christ Jesus with this type, and antitype, at once, when 
he set him on one of the pinnacles of the temple, and offered to 
thrust him upon a false confidence in God, by a false and unsound 
interpretation of a text. Matt. iv. 5, 6. Luke iv. 9, 10, 11. 

You have some men, cannot be content to worship in the tem- 
ple, but must be aloft ; no place will serve them but pinnacles, 
pinnacles ; that they may be speaking in and to the air, that they 
may be promoting their heady notions, instead of solid truth ; not 

25 



190 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

considering that now they are where the devil would have them 
be : they strut upon their points, their pinnacles : but let them look 
to it, there is difficult standing upon pinnacles ; their neck, their 
soul, is in danger. We read, God is in his temple, not upon these 
pinnacles. Psa. xi. 4. Hab. ii. 20. 

It is true, Christ was once upon one of these : but the devil set 
him there, with intent to dash him in pieces by a fall ; and yet 
even then told him, if he would venture to tumble down, he should 
be kept from dashing his foot against a stone. To be there, there- 
fore, was one of Christ's temptations ; consequently one of Satan's 
stratagems ; nor went he thither of his own accord, for he knew 
that there was danger ; he loved not to clamber pinnacles. 

This should teach Christians to be low and little in their own 
eyes, and to forbear to intrude into airy and vain speculations, and 
to take heed of being puffed up with a foul and empty mind. 

In the same work, Bunyan says in regard to the 
ornaments carved upon the doors of the temple, 

There were also carved upon these doors open flowers ; and that 
to teach us, that here is the sweet scent, and fragrant smell ; and 
that the coming soul will find it so in Christ this door : lam, saith 
he, the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the vallies. And again, His 
cheeks are as beds of spices and several flowers, his lips like lilies 
drop sweet smelling myrrh. 

Open flowers. Open flowers are the sweetest, because full 
grown, and because, as such, they yield their fragrancy most 
freely. Wherefore, when he saith, upon the doors are open flow- 
ers, he setteth Christ Jesus forth in his good savors as high as by 
such similitudes he could ; and that both in name and office ; for 
open flowers lay, by their thus opening themselves before us, all 
their beauty also most plainly before our faces. There are varie- 
ties of beauty in open flowers, the which they also commend to all 
observers. Now upon these doors, you see, are open flowers, 
flowers ripe, and spread before us to show that his name and offices 
are savory to them that by him do enter his house to God his 
Father. Song i. 1, 2, 3, 4. 

All these were overlaid with fine gold. Gold is most rich of all 
metals ; and here it is said the doors, the cherubims, the palm 
trees, and open flowers, were overlaid therewith. And this shows, 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 191 

that as these things are rich in themselves, even so they should be 
to us. We have a golden door to go to God by, and golden angels 
to conduct us through the world : we have golden palm trees, as 
tokens of our victory, and golden flowers to smell on all the way 
to heaven. 

A man who. with the Bible and his Concordance 
for his only library, could write, and loved to write, 
in this manner, need be in no want of occupation or 
of solace in his prison hours. They fled swiftly 
and sweetly with Bunyan, notwithstanding all his 
cares, and never, since the beginning of the world, 
were twelve prison years made to yield a riper, more 
blessed harvest for his own soul's happiness and 
the world's good. Of them, as well as of his 
temptations, Bunyan could say, I have found a 
nest of honey in the carcass of the lion that roared 
upon me. Not only himself, but all the world, are 
refreshed by its sweetness, and healed by it, as by a 
spiritual medicinal Nepenthe, in the midst of guilt 
and wretchedness. So, out of darkness God can 
bring forth light, out of evil good, out of the ad- 
versities of his people, the most precious of all manna 
for the nourishment of his church in the wilderness. 

Bunyan's release from prison took place in the 
year 1672, or early in 1673 ; befriended, ac- 
cording to Bunyan's own grateful acknowledg- 
ments, by Dr. Barlow, afterwards Bishop of Lin- 
coln. His liberation is now said to have been 
obtained from Charles II., by Whitehead the 
Quaker. For two or three years the strictness of 
his imprisonment had been loosened, so that, pro- 
bably through the kindness of his jailor, he used to 
meet with his church in Bedford, if not to preach 



192 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

to them. Indeed, it was even before his release 
from prison that he was chosen by that church, and 
ordained their pastor, in the year 1671, and that 
notwithstanding the revival and re-enactment of the 
barbarous conventicle act in 1670. This act was 
the means of a severe persecution of the members 
of Buny an's church, from which he himself escaped, 
only because he was already a prisoner, as he 
had been for near twelve years. In this there was 
at least a verification of Bunyan's own poetry in 
the Pilgrim's Progress: 

He that is down needs fear no fall. 

How he escaped afterwards, or how, without the 
slightest relinquishments of his principles, he should 
have been let out of prison, is almost inexplicable ; 
only it was the good providence of God. He was 
thrown into prison as a preacher, and as a preacher 
he came out, in the fall spirit of his first declara- 
tion, that if he were out of prison to-day, he would 
preach the gospel to-morrow, by the help of God. 

He continued for the rest of his life, writing, 
preaching, visiting, in Bedford and the region 
round about, often visiting London, and preaching 
there ; preaching with such divine unction and 
power, that Owen, who heard him, made answer to 
Charles II., when the king ridiculed him for hear- 
ing an illiterate tinker prate, " Please your ma- 
jesty, could I possess that tinker's abilities for 
preaching, I would most gladly relinquish all my 
learning." With all the graet learning of Owen, it 
would have been a good exchange, and the speech 
was in the highest degree creditable to that great 



IN BUN VAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 193 

and good man, and an admirable reproof to the 
king ; for Bunyan' s preaching was in demonstra- 
tion of the Spirit, and with power ; and his own 
account of his own exercises in preaching, with the 
wrestling and yearning of his soul for the con- 
version of men, shows something of the deep secret 
of that power. He preached in prison as well as 
out of it ; and one of his biographers, who visited 
him while there, just after the prison was crowded 
with more than three score dissenters newly taken, 
relates, " that in the midst of all that hurry, which 
so many new comers occasioned, he had heard 
Mr. Bunyan both preach and pray with that mighty 
spirit of faith, and plethory of divine assistance, 
that had made him stand and wonder." That is a 
graphic expression, that plethory of divine as- 
sistance. 

Bunyan is said to have clearly foreseen the 
designs of King James in favor of popery, and 
" advised the brethren to avail themselves of the 
sunshine by diligent endeavors to spread the 
gospel, and to prepare for an approaching storm by 
fasting and prayer." For himself, he was always 
ready, but always laboring after a greater readiness. 
It was in the successful prosecution of a labor of 
love and charity that he died ; having travelled to 
Reading to make peace between an alienated son 
and father. The gentle spirit of Bunyan prevailed 
to do away the alienation ; but for himself return- 
ing to London on horseback through the rain, he 
fell sick with a mortal fever, and died at the age of 
60, on the 31st day of August, 1688. On his 
dying bed, he acted the part of Hopeful, in crossing 



194 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

the River of Death, for the Saviour was with him, 
and the songs of the Celestial City were ravishing 
his heart. The most ancient biography of Bunyan 
declares, that "He comforted those that wept 
about him, exhorting them to trust in God, and 
pray to him for mercy and forgiveness of their 
sins, telling them what a glorious exchange it would 
be, to leave their troubles and cares of a wretched 
mortality, to live with Christ forever, with peace 
and joy inexpressible ; expounding to them the 
comfortable scriptures by which they were to 
hope and assuredly come unto a blessed resur- 
rection in the last day. He desired some to pray 
with him, and he joined with them in prayer : and 
his last words, after he had struggled with a lan- 
guishing disease, were these, Weep not for me, but 
for yourselves. I go to the Father of our Lord 
Jesus Christ, who will, through the mediation of his 
blessed Son, receive me, though a sinner, where I 
hope we ere long shall meet to sing the new song, 
and remain everlastingly happy, world without 
end." 

So holy and blessed was the life, so happy was 
the death, but indescribably, inconceivably glo- 
rious the immortality of John Bunyan. Farther 
the pen traces him not, but the eye of faith fol- 
lows him, and beholds him in glory. 

" I saw in my dream, that this man went in at the 
gate ; and lo ! as he entered he was transfigured, 
and he had raiment put on him, that shone like 
gold. There were also that met him with harps 
and crowns, and gave unto him ; the harps to praise 
withal and the crowns in token of honor. Then I 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRTJVl's PROGRESS. 195 

heard in my dream that all the bells in the city 
rang again for joy ; and that it was said unto him, 

' Enter thou into the joy of our Lord.' 
I also heard the man himself sing with a loud 
voice, saying, Blessing, and honor, and glory, 

AND POWER BE UNTO HIM THAT S1TTETH UPON THE 
THRONE AND UNTO THE LAMB FOR EVER AND EVER." 

In remarking on the manner in which the 
truths of the Holy Scriptures come to view in the 
Pilgrim's Progress, and constitute its texture, it is 
important to remember that Bunyan was taught 
those truths not as a system, at second-hand, but 
by the Spirit of God, through his own experience, 
in the Word of God. His great work is as a 
piece of rich tapestry, in which, with the Word of 
God before him as his original and guide, and with 
all his heaven-colored materials tinged also in the 
deep fountain of feeling in his own converted 
heart, he wove into one beautiful picture the 
various spiritual scenery and thrilling events of 
his own life and journey ings as a Christian pil- 
grim. So, if it is all fresh and graphic from his 
own experience, vivid with real life and not with 
speculation, it is also equally fresh and graphic 
from the Word of God, and answering thereto as a 
counterpart, all that experience having been built 
throughout upon that Word. We come to it with 
wrong criticism, therefore, if we look at it as a 
theological theory or system, though at the same 
time it is beyond measure interesting and de- 
lightful to recognize, while we read it as a book 
of life, the same great living elements of truth, 



196 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

with which we are familiar in the Bible. The 
anatomy of speculation in the Pilgrim's Progress, 
the bones, the vertebra, and the articulations, are, 
if I may so speak, the same with the anatomy of 
Divine Truth in the Scriptures ; and hence, the 
beauty and perfect symmetry of the body of life 
formed upon them. 

The purity of the stream of the water of life, 
clear as crystal, flowing through these pages, is 
nowhere, in the Pilgrim's Progress, tinged or 
darkened with speculative error. Much the same 
remark may be made in regard to that beautiful, 
most ingenious, and instructive work, the Holy 
War, in the Town of Mansoul. The theoretical 
system, and the practical spirit, can nowhere be 
separated, and both proceeded from the Word and 
the Spirit of God in the understanding and the 
heart of the writer. 

Dr. Scott has said, and it is a remark sometimes 
quoted, that the Calvinistic system in theology has 
never been traced so unexceptionably as in Bun- 
yan's Pilgrim's Progress. This remark, though 
unquestionably intended in the way of praise to 
Bunyan, may, nevertheless, in some respects, be 
regarded as doing him injustice ; for he followed 
no man's theological system in the world ; he knew 
almost as little, perhaps quite as little, about John 
Calvin, as he did about Thomas Aquinas himself. 
He drew his theology from the Scriptures, under the 
teaching of God's Spirit, and thence only, and 
from no man's system in the world. And in his 
Pilgrim's Progress he delineates the theology of 
the Scriptures, and of the Scriptures only, and not 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 197 

of the Calvinistic system, nor of any other system, 
with any human name attached to it. If any man's 
name conld with any justice be connected with Bun- 
yan's system, it would perhaps more probably be 
that of Luther than Calvin, either of them being 
great and venerable ; for Luther's Commentaries on 
Galatians had gone into Bunyan's soul like fire, 
whereas, we are not aware that he ever read a 
page of Calvin in the world. No ! It was one of 
God's providential disciplinary preparatives for 
him, that he might write the Pilgrim's Progress, 
that he was kept from the shackles of any human 
system. You cannot tell, from the perusal of that 
work, that Bunyan was of any religions persuasion, 
save that he was a living member of the church of 
Christ. 

And this is one of its supremest merits. It 
belongs to no sect. It is Christianity, pure Chris- 
tianity, and not churchism. You cannot say, from 
the perusal of that work, whether its author were a 
Presbyterian, or a Baptist, or a Congregationalist, 
.or a Methodist, or an Episcopalian, or a Calvinist, 
or a Lutheran; only that he did not mean, in 
drawing his own portrait of a true Christian, that 
he should belong to any of these parties exclu- 
sively ; or, if there were any one of these that ap- 
proached nearest to the Bible, in its comprehen- 
sive Christ-like, gentle, and forbearing spirit, it 
should be that. The portraiture was a compound 
of what was excellent in them all ; for what was 
truly excellent they all drew from the Bible, and the 
Pilgrim's Progress was drawn from the Bible, and 
from no sect, from nothing at second-hand. There 

26 



198 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

is no ite, nor ian, nor ist, that you dare put to 
Christian's name ; no lisping, halting Shibboleth 
of a party ; for he came from the mint of the 
Holy Scriptures, where no party names disgrace 
the glory of Christianity ; where men are neither 
of Paul, nor Apollos, nor Cephas, but of Christ ; 
and so, blessed be God, under his guidance Bun- 
yan made Christian no Church-man, but Christ's- 
man. That is good, that is noble! as great a 
proof, almost, of the excellence of Bunyan's book, 
as it is of the divine origin of Christianity that to 
the poor the Gospel is preached. 

And now, in very truth, if Dr. Scott, or any other 
man of like candour, finds in this book, which is 
drawn only from the Bible, the pure outlines of the 
Calvinistic system, then, so far, there is a presumption 
in favor of the Calvinistic system ; and it is a com- 
pliment which Dr. Scott pays to that system, when 
he says it is to be found in a book, which is taken 
directly from the Bible. But in very truth, you can no 
more say of the Pilgrim's Progress, that it is the 
Calvinistic system, than you could say of Raphael's 
great picture of the Transfiguration, that it was 
copied from Washington Allston. You may say 
both of Bunyan and of Calvin that they were 
children of God, and drank at the fountain of the 
Holy Sriptures, and were fed and nourished by 
God's Word ; and that so far as their systems 
resemble each other, it is proof of their likeness 
to their divine original ; but that either copied or 
contains the other, you cannot say. Just as you 
might say of both Raphael and Allston, that their 
genius was a gift from God ; one far superior to 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM S PROGRESS. 199 

the other, indeed, but neither an imitator, both 
original, both from God. 

There has been in this world too much of the 
imitation of great names and great authorities in 
theology, and too little of exclusive adherence to 
the Bible ; too much human nomenclature, and too 
little divine baptism. A Christian man may say, 
and ought to say, I would not give much for any 
compliment to my theology, nor thank you for 
any description of it, that likens it, and much 
less that links it, to Calvin's, or Luther's or Arch- 
bishop Usher's, excellent though they all be; and 
much less to any man's system or authority nearer 
to my times, or contemporary with me. I follow 
Christ, Paul, and the Holy Scriptures, and not 
Emmons, or Edwards, or Jeremy Taylor, or the 
Prayer Book Homilies, nor any man's authority, 
be he Augustine or Tertullian, Cherubim or Se- 
raphim. O for the spirit of combined indepen- 
dence and humility that characterized the noble 
company of martyrs and reformers ! We need a 
greater independence of all human authority, 
church or individual, and a more entire dependence 
on the Word and the Spirit of God. This makes a 
true theologian ; and doubtless, if we could all be 
shut up in prison for twelve years, like Bunyan, 
with nothing but the Bible, and Fox's old Book 
of Martyrs, we too should come out with a living 
theology, drawn from no man's system, but ready 
to set all men's hearts on fire. Indeed, indeed, 
this is what is needed in this day of the resurrec- 
tion of rites and forms and apostolical successions, 
and patristical authorities, and traditions of the 



200 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

fathers, and of the rags of Judaism itself patched 
and gilded anew ; this return to the Scriptures 
solely, and the Spirit of God, is what is needed. 

And here let me say, in this connection, that it 
was a great thing in that personal experience, by 
which God prepared Bunyan to write the Pil- 
grim's Progress, that he could never say precisely 
at what time he became a Christian. So was he 
prevented from putting in his work what many 
men would have set up at its very entrance, a Pro- 
crustes' bed for tender consciences in the alleged 
necessity or importance of knowing the exact day 
or hour of a man's conversion. Bunyan always 
shrank from making his experience a test for 
others. His was one of the purest, humblest, 
noblest, least bigoted, most truly liberal minds, that 
ever lived. Non-essentials he would never set up 
as standards. His book, in its delineation of 
Christianity differs from almost all uninspired 
records, and systems, in that it has neither carica- 
tures, nor extremes, nor marked deficiences. Some 
men get a likeness, indeed, of Christian doctrine, 
but it is by making some feature predominate ; 
you never think of some men's system, but 
you think of some peculiar tenet that stamps it, 
that throws the atmosphere, not of the cross, but 
of a particular dogma around it. Other men 
have monstrous excrescences, which are imitated 
and adored as virtues, and even held sacred as the 
sign of a party ; just as if a great commander, 
having an enormous wart upon his features, should 
have it painted on the shield of every one of his 
soldiers. 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 201 

And here I am constrained to say, that this fig- 
ment of the apostolical succession is just such a wart, 
of which, in the opinion of some, if there be not a 
true painting and proper veneration in a man's es- 
cutcheon, he is no minister of Jesus Christ. Now 
if any such party man in theology had had the 
making of the Pilgrim's Progress, be you sure he 
would never have suffered a single Evangelist to 
come in to guide his Christian, not even to pull 
him out of the Slough of Despond, without first 
painting him over with this wart of the apostolical 
succession, or giving him a diploma stating his 
descent, in a true line, down through the Anti- 
Christian church of Rome, clear across the monstrous 
corruptions of the dark ages, from one of the twelve 
apostles. Or he would have put up an exclusive 
church-sign over the wicket gate ; and that would 
have been making it strait and qarrow indeed, in a 
way never contemplated by the Saviour. Yea, he 
would have let a soul wait there even to perishing, 
exposed to all the artillery of Satan, before he would 
have had even a porter to open the door, who was not 
of the true apostolical succession. And other men 
would have sprinkled their pages with conversations 
about the form of baptism, or the sign of the cross, or 
baptismal regeneration, or the Book of Discipline, 
or perhaps the Say brook Platform, or one and 
another mark of party ; letting the work be colored 
in its progress, or rather discolored, by a thousand 
varying shades, through the prism of personal or 
party prejudice. 

There is nothing of all this in Bunyan ; in him 
you do not meet truth in fragments, or in parts put 



202 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

for the whole. You do not meet prejudice instead 
of truth, nor bigotries, nor reproaches, nor any 
thing in the sweet fields through which he leads 
you, that can drive away, or repel any, the 
humblest, most forgotten Christian, or the wisest, 
most exalted one, from these lovely enclosures. 
He is as a familiar friend, an angel from heaven, 
and not a partisan, walking with you through green 
pastures, and leading you beside still waters ; and 
conversing with you all the way so lovingly, so 
instructively, so frankly, that nothing can be more 
delightful. You have in him more of the ubiquity, 
unity and harmony of divine truth, more of the 
pervading breath and stamp of inspiration, than in 
almost any other uninspired writer. 

If I should compare Bunyan with other men, 
I should say that he was a compound of the charac- 
ter of Peter, Luther and Cowper. He had Peter's 
temptations, and deep, rich experience ; and Lu- 
ther's Saxon sturdiness, and honesty, and fearless- 
ness of as many devils as there were tiles on the 
roofs of the houses, and not a little of Cowper's own 
exquisite humor, tenderness and sensibility. And 
he had as little of the thirst of human applause as 
either Luther or Cowper. 

As Bunyan's religious experience was not secta- 
rian, but Christian, that it might be universal, so 
it was thorough and deep, that the colors might 
stand. In him there was a remarkable translucence 
of the general in the particular, and of the particu- 
lar through the general. His book is to the religious 
sensibilities as the day-light to the flowers ; from its 
rays they may imbibe what lasting colors are most 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 203 

suited to their peculiarities. So it is like the sun 
of God's Word, in which the prism of each indi- 
vidual mind, under the influence of the Divine Spirit, 
separates the heavenly colors, and puts them in a 
new aspect, so that every Christian, in the rays of 
Divine Truth, becomes a new reflection of the Di- 
vine Attributes. Bunyan's book has the likeness of 
this universality, and Christians of every sect may 
take what they please out of it, except their own 
sectarianism ; they cannot find that. In this respect 
it bears remarkably the divine stamp. 

Bunyan's mind was long under the law, in his 
own religious experience, under a sense of its con- 
demnation. This alone would never have prepared 
him to write the Pilgrim's Progress, though it must 
have prepared him to preach with pungency and 
power. It fitted him to sympathize with men's 
distresses on account of sin, wherever he found 
them. A man's religious anxieties are some- 
times so absorbing, that they defeat their own end, 
they oppose themselves to his deliverance. Just as 
in a crowded theatre on fire, the doors of which 
open inward, the very rush of the multitude to get 
out shuts them so fast, that there is no unclosing 
them. Such at one time, seemed to be Bunyan's 
situation ; so it often is with the heart that has 
within it the fire of a guilty conscience; and in 
this case it is only the Saviour, who knocks for 
admittance, that can open the door, put out the 
flames, and change the soul from a theatre of fiery 
accusing thoughts into a living temple of his 
grace. The Pilgrim's Progress would never have 
been given to the world, except Bunyan had been 



204 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

relieved of his difficulties, but these difficulties 
were as necessary, to furnish him with the ex- 
perimental wisdom requisite for the author of that 
book, as the relief itself. 

There is one book in our language, with which 
the Pilgrim's Progress may be compared, as a 
Reality with a Theory, a Personification with an 
x4.bstraction, and that is Edwards on the Religious 
Affections. This book is the work of a holy, but 
rigid metaphysician, analyzing and anatomizing the 
soul, laying the heart bare, and I had almost said, 
drying it for a model. As you study it, you know 
it is truth, and you know that your own heart ought 
to be like it ; but you cannot recognize in it your 
own flesh and blood. Edwards' delineations are 
like the skeleton leaves of the forest, through 
which, if you hold them to the sun, you can see 
every minute fibre in the light : Bunyan's work is 
like the same leaves as fresh foliage, green and 
glossy in the sunshine, joyfully whispering to the 
breathing air, with now and then the dense rain- 
drops glittering on them from a June shower. In 
Edwards' work you see the Divine life in its 
abstract severity and perfection ; in Bunyan's work 
you see it assuming a visible form, like your own, 
with your own temptations and trials, touched with 
the feeling, and colored with the shade of your own 
infirmities. Yet both these books are well nigh 
perfect in their way, both equally adapted to their 
purpose. We love the work of Bnnyan as a 
bosom friend, a sociable confiding companion on 
our pilgrimage. We revere the work of Edwards, 
as a deep, grave teacher, but its stern accuracy 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 205 

make us tremble. Banyan encourages, consoles, 
animates, delights, sympathises with us ; Edwards 
cross-examines, probes, scrutinizes, alarms us. 
Bunyan looks on us as a sweet angel, as one 
of his own shining ones, come to take off our 
burden, and put on our robe ; Edwards, with the 
rigidity of a geometrician, as a sort of military 
surveyor of the king's roads, meets us with his 
map, and shows us how we have wandered from 
the way, and makes us feel as if we never were in 
it. Bunyan carries our sensibilities, Edwards our 
convictions. In short, Bunyan is the Man, the 
Pilgrim ; Edwards the Metaphysician. 

Bunyan was as great a master of Allegory as 
Edwards was of Logic and Metaphysics ; but not 
artificially so, not designedly so, not as a matter of 
study. He scarcely knew the meaning of the 
word allegory, much less any rules or principles 
for its conduct ; and the great beauty of his own 
is that it speaks to the heart; it is the language 
of nature, and needs no commentator to under- 
stand it. It is not like the allegorical friezes of 
Spenser or of Dante, or like those on a Grecian 
Temple, which may pass into darkness in a single 
generation, as to all meaning but that of the ex- 
quisite beauty of the sculpture, except there be 
a minute traditionary commentary. Bunyan's Al- 
legory is a universal language. 

D'Israeli has well designated Bunyan as the 
Spenser of the people ; every one familiar with 
the Fairy Queen must acknowledge the truth of 
the description. Johnson thought Bunyan must 
have read Spenser, and there are some passages 

27 



206 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AXD GEMUS 

in each writer surprisingly similar, especially in 
each writer's description of Despair. If it were 
not apparently incongruous, we would call him, 
on another score, the spiritual Shakspeare of the 
world, for the accuracy and charm with which he 
has delineated the changes and progress of the 
spiritual life, are not less exquisite, than those of 
Shakspeare in the Seven Ages, and innumerable 
scenes of this world's existence. He is scarcely less 
to be praised than Shakspeare for the purity of his 
language, and the natural simplicity of his style. It 
comes, as I have said, even nearer to the common 
diction of good conversation. 

The allegorical image of a Pilgrimage is beauti- 
fully adapted to express the dangers and hardships 
of the Christian Life : a Pilgrimage, with a glorious 
city at its end, into which the weary but faithful 
Pilgrim shall be received, to repose forever from his 
toils. Every thing connected with the idea is 
pleasant to the imagination. It has been the 
origin of many beautiful hymns. " Jerusalem ! my 
happy home," is a sweet one. The glories of 
the Celestial City, and the employments of its 
inhabitants, are the sources of many images in the 
Bible, and constitute much of the poetry in the 
Apocalypse. And these images always had a 
powerful effect upon the inmost soul of Bunyan- 
Spenser remembered them not a little. The fol- 
lowing beautiful stanzas from the Fairy Queen are 
a picture in miniature of the close of the Pilgrim's 
Progress : 

From thence far off he unto him did show, 
A little path that was both steep and long, 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM^ PROGRESS. 207 

Which to a goodly city led his view, 
Whose walls and towers were builded high and strong 
Of pearl and precious stone, that earthly tongue 
Cannot describe, nor wit of man can tell ; 
Too high a ditty for my simple song ! 
The city of the Great King hight it well, 
Wherein eternal peace and happiness doth dwell. 

As he thereon stood gazing, he might see 
The blessed angels to and fro descend 
From highest Heaven in gladsome company, 
And with great joy into that city wend, 
As commonly as friend doth with his friend ; 
Whereat he wondered much, and 'gan inquire 
What stately buildings durst so high extend 
Her lofty towers into the starry sphere, 
And what unknowen nation there empeopled were. 

We know of no other work in which we take a 
deeper sympathetic interest in all the circumstances 
of danger, trial, or happiness befalling the hero. 
The honesty, integrity, open-heartedness, humor, 
simplicity and deep sensibility of Christian's 
character, make us love him : nor is there a cha- 
racter depicted in all English literature that stands 
out to the mind in bolder truth and originality. 
There is a wonderful charm and truth to nature in 
Christian's manifest growth in grace and wisdom. 
What a different being is Christian on the De- 
lectable Mountains, or in the land Beulah, and 
Christian when he first set out on his pilgrimage. 
And yet he is always the same being ; we recognize 
him at once. The change is not of the original 
features of his character, but a change into the 
character of the " Lord of the way," a gradual 
imbuing with his spirit ; a change, in Paul's ex- 
pressive language, from glory to glory into the 
same image. In proportion as he arrives nearer 
the Celestial City he shines brighter, his character 



208 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

unfolds in greater richness, he commands more 
veneration from us, without losing any of our affec- 
tion. As we witness his steadily increasing lustre, 
we think of that beautiful Scripture image, the 
path of the Just is as a shining light, that shineth 
more and more unto the perfect day. From be- 
ing an unwary Pilgrim, just setting out, with all 
the rags of the City of Destruction about him, and 
the burden of guilt bending him down, he becomes 
that delightful character, an experienced Christian ; 
with the robe given him by the Shining Ones, 
shining brighter and brighter, and the roll of assu- 
rance becoming clearer, and courage more con- 
firmed and steady, and in broader and broader 
light Heaven reflected from his countenance. We 
go with him in his Pilgrimage all the way. We 
enter the Interpreter's house ; we see all the varie- 
ties which the Lord of the Way keeps there for the 
entertainment of the Pilgrims ; we solemnly gaze 
on that terrible picture of the Man of Despair ; we 
tremble as we listen to the Dream of the Judg- 
ment ; and the description of that venturous man 
that cut his way through the armed men, and won 
eternal glory, ravishes our hearts. Then we leave 
the house comforted and refreshed, and proceed on 
our way ; we climb the hill Difficulty, we rest in 
the Arbour, and lose our roll, and come back weep- 
ing and seeking for it ; in this much time is lost, and 
the night comes on, and we are fearful of the dark- 
ness. We tremble and weep for Christian in his 
dreadful fight with Apollyon, in the Valley of Hu- 
miliation ; we rejoice in the radiant smile that at 
length breaks out from his distressed soul over his 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 209 

countenance ; then we plunge with him into the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death, and amidst all its 
gloom and horrors and hobgoblins, we think we 
hear a voice singing ; by and by we overtake 
Faithful ; we pass through Vanity Fair ; farther 
on we become tired of the way, and turn aside 
from the rough path to go in the soft meadow ; we 
are overtaken by the storm ; we fall into Giant 
Despair's Castle ; we are there from Wednesday 
noon till Saturday night ; — there never was a poem 
into which we entered so wholly, and with all the 
heart, and in such fervent love and believing as- 
surance. 

Now all this admirable accuracy and beauty 
Bunyan wrought seemingly without design. It 
was not so much an exertion, a labor of his mind, 
as the promptings and wanderings at will of his 
unconscious genius. He never thought of doing 
all this, but he did it. He was as a child under the 
power and guidance of his genius, and with a 
child's admiration he would look upon the crea- 
tions which his own imagination presented to his 
mind. Thus Bunyan went on, painting that nar- 
row way, and the exquisite scenery each side of it, 
and the many characters crossing, appearing, and 
passing at a distance, and Christian and Hopeful 
on their w r ay, and making every part of the pic- 
ture, as he proceeded, harmonize with the whole, 
and yet add anew to its meaning, and all with as 
much quiet unconscious ease and simplicity, as an 
infant would put together a baby-house of cards, or 
as the frost on a winter's night would draw a picture 
on the window. 



210 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

The minute passages of beauty, and the ex- 
quisite lessons of the allegory, are so many from 
beginning to end, that it is vain to make a selection. 
The whole description of the Slough of Despond, 
the character of Pliable, and his getting out on the 
side nearest the City of Destruction, and the re- 
ception he met from his neighbors when he came 
back, are rich in truth and beauty. The comparison 
of Christian's and Faithful's experience is beauti- 
ful ; so is Faithful's description of a bold fellow he 
met in the Valley of Humiliation — Shame ; so is 
their encounter with the plausible, gentlemanly, 
money-making Demas. The character of Talk- 
ative, and the way they took to prove him, are 
excellent. Their passage through Vanity Fair, and 
the whole trial in that town, with the names 
of the jurors and judges, and the characteristic 
speeches of each, are admirably described. The 
character of By-ends, who was for religion in her 
silver slippers, and the humour and keen satire 
in the dialogue between By-ends, Money-love, 
Save-all, and Hold-the- World, are equally ad- 
mirable. Then we may remember that pleasant 
river, and the roughness of the road, where it parted 
from the river, so that it made them not scrupulous 
to get over the stile, and walk in By-Path Mea- 
dow, when that tempestuous night came on ; and 
though amidst the darkness they heard a voice 
sounding, Let thy feet be to the king's highway, 
yet, with all the effort they made, they could not 
that night regain it, but trespassed on Giant De- 
spair's grounds, and fell into his Castle. That 
night was a dreadful night for the Pilgrims. The 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 211 

Key of Promise, in Christian's bosom, while lying 
in the Dungeon is a beautiful incident. It was a 
pleasant thing to see the Pilgrims, when they had 
escaped the Giant, and got again to the King's 
highway, and so were safe, devising an inscrip- 
tion to keep those, that should come after, from 
falling, as they did, into the hands of Giant 
Despair. " Over this stile is the way to Doubting 
Castle, kept by Giant Despair, who despiseth the 
King of the Celestial Country, and seeks to 
destroy his holy Pilgrims." On the Delectable 
Mountains they saw some pleasant and admoni- 
tory sights. When the Shepherds unconsciously 
were telling Hopeful and Christian of Doubting 
Castle and Giant Despair, Christian and Hopeful 
looked meaningly on one another, but said nothing. 
It is also a beautiful incident, when, though they 
were bidden to look through the telescope at 
the Celestial City, in the distance, their hands so 
trembled at the remembrance of the clangers they 
had seen, that they could not hold the glass so as to 
discern it with any clearness. The dialogue 
between Hopeful and Christian on Little-Faith's 
misfortunes, is exceedingly characteristic and full 
of humor. One of the most solemn and striking 
lessons is taught in the character of Ignorance, who 
met with none of the difficulties Christian passed 
through, and was even ferried over the river of 
Death in the boat of one called Self-Conceit. 
Then his disappointment at the Gate of the City ! 

The scenery, and the countries all the way that 
lie on both sides the path, are in perfect keeping 
with the whole allegory. So are the paths that 



212 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

"butt down" on the king's highway, by which many 
enter, because the right way is too far round, not 
entering at the wicket gate, through which Chris- 
tian, Faithful and Hopeful entered, after sore dif- 
ficulties encountered. The characters we meet 
here and there on the road, that have entered by 
such lanes and cross paths, are equally in keeping, 
and as they come successively under Christian's 
observation, it is amusing to see the manner in 
which, by turns, their real character is exposed 
n his honest, plain-dealing, rugged and humorous 
way. The conversation of Hopeful and Christian 
all along is truly delightful. It is as becometh 
saints; grave, sincere, full of good sense and dis- 
crimination, with much cheerful pleasantry ; ex- 
hibiting Hopeful's youthful experience and ardour, 
and Christian's superior experience, richness of 
thought, frankness and kindness. They walk to- 
gether so lovingly, so sympathizing, so faithful to 
each other, that all must acknowledge they are a 
perfect example of the brotherly kindness becoming 
the fellow-pilgrims of that way. 

Between the first and second parts of the Pil- 
grim's Progress there is a diversity that may be 
compared to that between the Paradise Lost and 
the Paradise Regained. Milton's genius, in his 
second effort, appeared not less than the excess 
of glory obscured. In the second part of Bunyan's 
work we readily recognize, and are pleased to fol- 
low the footsteps of that original genius, which has 
so delighted us in the first. Yet we feel that the 
region is inferior ; there is more familiarity and 
humour, but less poetry; and though there is the 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 213 

same vigorous delineation of character, the allegory 
is imperfect. One of the most humorous and 
amusing portions of the whole work is the account 
of the courtship between Mercy and Mr. Brisk, 
which took place while the parties were at the 
house of the Interpreter. There are also some 
exquisitely beautiful snatches of melody in this 
second part of the pilgrimage. 

Perhaps no other work could be named, which, 
admired by cultivated minds, has had at the same 
time such an ameliorating effect on the lower classes 
in society as the Pilgrim's Progress. It is a work 
so full of native good sense, that no mind can read 
it, without gaining in wisdom and vigor of judg- 
ment. What an amazing effect must it have pro- 
duced in this way on the mass of common minds 
brought under its power ! We cannot compute the 
good it has thus accomplished on earth, nor tell the 
number of souls it may have been the means of 
guiding to Heaven. It is one of the books, that, by 
being connected with the dearest associations of 
childhood, always retain their hold on the heart, and 
it exerts a double influence when, at a graver age, 
and less under the despotism given to imagination in 
childhood, we read it with a serene and thoughtful 
perception of its meaning. How many children 
have become better citizens of the world through 
life by the perusal of this book almost in infancy! 
And how many, through its instrumentality, may 
have been fitted after life to live forever. The 
Christian warfare is here arrayed in the glow of 
imagination, to make it attractive. How many 
Pilgrims, in hours when perseverance was almost 

28 



114 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

exhausted, and patience was yielding, and clouds 
and darkness were gathering, have felt a sudden 
return of animation and courage from the remem- 
brance of Christian's severe conflicts, and his glo- 
rious entrance at last through the gates into the 
city! 

As the work draws to its conclusion, the poet's 
soul seems to expand with the glory of the subject. 
The description of Christian and Hopeful's en- 
trance up through the regions of air into the Celestial 
City, preceded by the touching account of their 
passing the River of Death, though composed of 
the simplest materials, and depicted in the simplest 
language, with Scripture imagery almost exclu- 
sively, constitutes one of the finest passages in 
English literature. The Shining Ones, and the 
beauty and glory of their conversation ; the angels 
and their melodious notes ; the Pilgrims among 
them, in Heaven, as it were, before they come at 
it ; the city itself in view, and all the bells ringing 
with joy of their welcome ; the warm and joyful 
thoughts they had about their own dwelling «here 
with such a company, and that forever and ever ; 
the letters of gold written over the gate ; the trans- 
figuration of the men as they entered, and the rai- 
ment put on them that shone like gold ; the harps 
and crowns given them, the harps to praise withal, 
and the crowns in token of honor ; the bells in the 
city ringing again for joy ; the shout of welcome, 
Enter ye into the joy of our Lord ; the men 
themselves singing with a loud voice, Blessing, 
and honor, and glory, and power be unto him 
that sitteth upon the throne, and unto the 
Lamb for ever and ever ! 



IN BUNYAN AND THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS. 215 

Now, says the Dreamer, just as the gates were 
opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, 
and behold the city shone like the sun ; the streets 
also were paved with gold, and in them walked 
many men, with crowns upon their heads, palms 
in their hands, and golden harps to sing praises 
withal. There were also of them that had wings ; 
and they answered one another without inter- 
mission, saying, Holy, holy, holy is the Lord ; 
and after that, they shut up the gates ; which, when 
I had seen, I wished myself among them. 

And who would not wish himself among them ? or 
what man, reading of these things, or hearing of 
these things, can refuse to join them ? In what 
attractive beauty of description are the life and the 
rewards of practical religion here delineated ! The 
whole course of the Pilgrim's Progress shines with 
a light borrowed from its close. Just so it is in 
the reality. The splendors of the Celestial City, 
though rather to be dreamed of and guessed at, 
than distinctly seen, do, nevertheless, break from 
the clouds, and fall from mountain top to mountain 
top, flashing on forest and vale, down into the 
most difficult craggy passes of our mortal pil- 
grimage. At times, the domes and towers seem 
resting on our earthly horizon, and in a season of 
fair weather our souls have sight of the streets of 
gold, the gates of pearl, the walls of jasper. Then 
we walk many days under the remembrance of such 
a vision. At other times the inhabitants of that 
city seem to be walking with us, and ministering to 
us ; men do eat angels' food ; melodious music 
ravishes the ear ; listening intently, we think we 



216 PROVIDENCE, GRACE, AND GENIUS 

hear the chimes of bells wafted across the sea ; and 
sometimes the gales are laden with such fragrant 
spicy airs, that a single breath of them makes the 
soul recognize its immortal Paradise, and almost 
transports it thither. 

When shall the day break, and the shadows flee 
away ! It is night here, but there the sun shall 
never go down. Light is sown for the righteous, 
and in the harvest time it shall come up ; but as 
Goodwin beautifully remarks in his " Child of Light 
Walking in Darkness," we must be content to let it 
lie under ground ; and the longer it doth so, the 
greater crop and harvest will spring up in the end. 

In the Pilgrim's Progress there is a charming 
passage descriptive of the Pilgrim's entertainment 
in the House Beautiful, which was thus : — " The 
Pilgrim they laid in a large upper chamber, whose 
windows opened towards the sunrising ; the name 
of the chamber was Peace ; where he slept till 
break of day, and then he awoke and sang." A 
great and thoughtful poet has written a poem with 
this description as its motto, which he has entitled 
" Day-break," and which closes with the following 
stanza : — 

How suddenly that strait and glittering shaft 
Shot 'thwart the earth ! In crown of living fire 
Up comes the day! As if they, conscious, quaffed 
The sunny flood, hill, forest, city, c])ire, 
Laugh in the wakening light. Go, vain Desire ! 
The dusky lights have gone ; go thou thy way ! 
And pining Discontent, like them expire ! 
Be called my chamber Peace, when ends the day, 
And let me, with the dawn, like Pilgrim, sing and pray ! 

OESl MONSl A Oa A. 



LECTURES 



ON THE 



PILGRIM'S PROGRESS 



THE 

CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

AND 

SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 



Locality of the City of Destruction.— Character of Christian.— The awakened! 
sinner.— The sinner convinced of sin, and fleeing from the wrath to come. — Charac- 
ter of Pliable. — Difference between a burden and no burden.— Pliable and Chris- 
tian in the Slough of Despond. — Mr. Worldly Wiseman and his instructions. — Mr. 
Legality and the town of Carnal Policy. — The terrors of the Law of God to an 
awakened conscience. — Christian's entrance at the Wicket Gate. 

The City of Destruction ! We are all inha- 
bitants of it ; no man needs ask, Where is it 1 
What is it 1 Who are its people 1 Alas ! our 
world of sin is the City of Destruction, and we 
know of a certainty from God's Word that it is to be 
burned up, and that if we do not escape from it, 
though we may die at peace in it before its con- 
flagration, yet to be found with its spirit in our 
souls when we die, is to be forever miserable. 
There is a blessed pilgrimage from the City of 
Destruction to the City of Immanueh It is full of 
dangers, trials, difficulties ; but the perils are not 
worthy to be named in comparison with the glory at 
its close. And indeed the pilgrimage itself, with 
all its roughnesses and trials, is romantic and de~ 

29 



218 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

lightful. As the author of this book has delineated 
it, he makes many a man wish that he were set out 
in it. And yet this delineation is not in the coloring 
of imagination, but of sober reality ; there is nothing 
overdrawn, nothing exaggerated in it ; the scenery 
along the way is not painted too beautiful, there are 
no ecstacies, or rapturous frames, or revelations in 
it ; the coloring is sober, with all its richness, the 
experience is human with all its variety ; the very 
angels are more like gentle sympathising friends, 
than glittering supernatural intelligences. 

It is this charm of common sense and reality 
that constitutes in a great measure the power of this 
book. Its characters are not removed from our own 
experience ; the piety of Christian, though very rich 
and mellow, is progressive, and for every day's use, 
and for every saint's attainment. It is neither 
mystical, nor visionary, nor in extremes ; it is not 
perfection, nor ascetic sublimation from the world, 
nor contemplation, nor penance, nor the luxury of 
mere spiritual frames and exercises. It is deep, 
sincere, gentle, practical, full of the fruits of the 
Spirit, full of intelligence and kindness, of love, 
joy, peace, long-suffering, goodness and truth. 
They are every day virtues which shine in Chris- 
tian ; and his character is an example of what ours 
ought to be in our daily pilgrimage. His conflicts 
are such as every Christian may pass through, his 
consolations and enjoyments such as every Chris- 
tian may experience, his knowledge of the Word of 
God, and indeed all his attainments, within reach 
of every pilgrim. He is indeed a model of excel- 
lence for all. 



AND SLOUCH OF DESPOND. 219 

I think we shall observe, as we study the book 
through, that from first to last Bitnyan has com- 
posed this character out of the most general and 
universally recognized traits belonging to the 
experience of a child of God. This, it is clear, 
was necessary, in order to its highest success and 
usefulness. And yet the individuality and origin 
nality of the character is as perfect, as striking, as 
graphic, as if it were the delineation from life of 
some person well known to Bunyan with all his 
peculiarities. Now we do not suppose that Bun- 
yan intended this in so definite a form of art and 
philosophy ; we do not suppose that he said within 
himself, I must make this Christian, in the 
absence of all peculiarities, a suitable model for all, 
and yet, in the translucence through his particular 
characteristics, of the general qualities belonging 
to our conception of a Christian, a character recog^ 
nisable by, and the counterpart of, every individual. 
This would involve a greater degree of art and 
criticism than Bunyan ever exercised ; and yet his 
genius, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, did 
spontaneously work according to these rules. Just 
so, Bunyan's own incomparable freedom from all 
sectarianism, even in a sectarian age, has prevented 
the character of Christian and of the whole Progress 
of the Pilgrim, from being narrowed or disfigured 
by any thing which could even be tortured to 
restrict its application, or its preferences, to any 
religious party. Accordingly, the more bigoted* 
exclusive and sectarian a man is, the less he will 
like this book ; to a violent Churchman it wants a 
bishop and the apostolical succession : to a rigid 



220 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

Baptist it wants immersion as the Wicket Gate. 
But Bunyan was wonderfully preserved from af- 
fixing to any part of this book the seal of any such 
local or party distinctions. Though he was himself 
a Baptist, yet he was an open communion Baptist, 
and experienced the wrath of his more exclusive 
Baptist brethren, because he laid no stress what- 
ever on their peculiarities. They had bitter con- 
troversies against him as a deserter from the faith, 
because he would not pronounce their Shibboleths, 
and was completely free from the unchurching 
spirit of his age. 

Now here was a characteristic of the presence 
of the Holy Spirit in him very remarkable ; 
and his work accordingly has come from that 
school of heaven in which no man is of A pol- 
ios, or Cephas, or Paul, but all of Christ. Ah, 
this is delightful ; and accordingly, in such a 
controversial world as this, this work is like oil 
upon the waters; it is as the very voice of the 
Saviour in the tempest, Peace, be still ; it is like the 
dove with her olive leaf, a prophet of the garden of 
the Lord ; it is like a white-robed herald with his 
sacred flag, privileged to go every where, and 
admitted every where, even amidst contending 
armies. This book will remain, when there shall 
be nothing to hurt nor destroy in all God's holy 
mountain, when Judah shall no more vex Ephraim, 
nor Ephraim envy Judah; for it has come forth from 
the mint of celestial universal love ; it has no leaf 
in it, which the Spirit of God may not sweetly 
mingle with those leaves of the Tree of Life for 
the healing of the nations. We doubt whether 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 221 

there was another individual in that age, except 
Leighton, whose piety could have produced so 
catholic, so unsectarian, so heavenly a work. 

In accordance with what I have said, you will 
perceive how Bunyan commences with his Pi! 
grim. He begins with releasing himself and the 
position of the Dreamer from any positive locality; 
he does not suffer his personal situation or feelings 
to throw a single determinate shade upon the pic- 
ture; he does not say, (as many persons would 
very naturally have said,) As I lay suffering for 
the Gospel in the prison of Bedford, but, As I 
walked through the wilderness of this world, I 
lighted upon a certain place where was a den, 
and laid me down in that place to sleep ; and as 
I slept, I dreamed a dream. Ah, it was a wil- 
derness indeed, and no small part of Bunyan's 
life was spent in the deserts and caves of it. It 
is a wilderness to us all, but to many a wilder- 
ness of sinful pleasures infinitely more dangerous 
than dens and caves, bonds and imprisonments. 
It is a wilderness to the soul, away from its 
God, surrounded by dangers, exposed to the wiles 
of its great adversary the devil, in peril of eternal 
ruin. 

There are lions, chained and unchained, in the 
way, and temptations of every shape and name, 
and unseen dangers too, from which God alone 
can protect us. He only walks safely who walks 
as a stranger and a pilgrim. 

Yet the dear path to thine abode, 

Lies through this horrid land ; 
Lord, we would trace the dangerous road, 

And run at thy command. 



222 THE CITY OF DESTUCTION 

And if we do this, then a blessed Faith comes in, 
and ours is a more cheerful, delightful, heavenly 
vision. We walk under the gracious care, and in 
the safe dominions of the King of the Celestial 
City ; we travel the king's own highway; we come 
to the land Beulah ; 

We're marching through ImmanueFs ground 
To fairer worlds on high ! 

You will observe what honor, from his Pilgrim's 
first setting out, Bunyan puts upon the Word of 
God. He would give to no inferior instrumentality, 
not even to one of God's Providences, the business 
of awakening his Pilgrim to a sense of his danger ; 
but he places him before us reading his book, 
awakened by the word. Now we know that it is 
often God's providence, in the way of sickness, the 
loss of friends, earthly disappointments, the voice 
and discipline of pain of various kinds, that 
awakens careless men in the first place, and leads 
them to the word of God ; and kind and gracious 
providences are always, all through life, all through 
our Christian course, combining with the Word and 
the Spirit of God to help us on our pilgrimage, and 
make us wary in it ; but in general it is the word of 
God, in some form, which God uses as the instrument 
in awakening men, as well as in converting them. 
And so Bunyan, with heavenly wisdom and truth, 
gives us the first picture of his Pilgrim, anxiously 
reading the word of God. And he makes the first 
efficacious motive in the mind of this Pilgrim, a 
salutary fear of the terrors of that word, a sense of 
the wrath to come, beneath the burden of sin upon 
his soul. 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOKD. 223 

There is a passage so beautiful, in the pages of a 
great writer, on this very point ; that it might have 
been written as a commentary on this very opening 
of the Pilgrim's Progress, and I shall set it before 
you. "Awakened," says Mr. Coleridge, "by the 
cock-crow (a sermon, a calamity, a sick bed, or a 
providential escape) the Christian Pilgrim sets out 
in the morning twilight, while yet the truth is below 
the horizon. Certain necessary consequences of his 
past life and his present undertaking will be seen by 
the refraction of its light : more will be apprehended 
and conjectured. The phantasms, that had predo- 
minated during the hours of darkness, are still 
busy. No longer present as Forms, they will yet 
exist as moulding and formative Motions in the Pil- 
grim's soul. The Dream of the past night will 
transfer its shapes to the objects in the distance, 
while the objects give outwardness and reality to 
the shapings of the Dream. The fears inspired by 
long habits of selfishness and self-seeking cunning, 
though now purifying into that fear which is the 
beginning of wisdom, and ordained to be our guide 
and safeguard, till the sun of love, the perfect law 
of liberty, is fully arisen — these fears will set the 
fancy at work, and haply, for a time transform the 
mists of dim and imperfect knowledge into deter- 
minate superstitions. But in either case, whether 
seen clearly or dimly, whether beheld or only 
imagined, the consequences contemplated in their 
bearings on the individual's inherent desire of 
happiness and dread of pain become motives : and 
(unless all distinction in the words be done away 
with, and either prudence or virtue be reduced to a 



224 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

superfluous synonyme, a redundancy in all the 
languages of the civilized world,) these motives, 
and the acts and forbearances directly proceeding 
from them, fall under the head of prudence, as 
belonging to one or other of its three very distinct 
species. It may be a prudence, that stands in 
opposition to a higher moral life, and tends to pre- 
clude it, and to prevent the soul from ever arriving 
at the hatred of sin for its own exceeding sinful- 
ness, (Rom. vii, 13 ;) and this is an evil prudence. 
Or it may be a neutral prudence, not incompatible 
with spiritual growth : and to this we may, with 
especial propriety, apply the words of our Lord, 
' What is not against us is for us.' It is therefore 
an innocent, and (being such) a proper and com- 
mendable prudence. 

Or it may lead and be subservient to a higher 
principle than itself. The mind and conscience 
of the individual may be reconciled to it, in the 
foreknowledge of the higher principle, and with a 
yearning towards it that implies a foretaste of 
future freedom, The enfeebled convalescent is 
reconciled to his crutches, and thankfully makes 
use of them, not only because they are necessary 
for his immediate support, but likewise, because 
they are the means and condition of exercise ; 
and by exercise of establishing, gradatim paula- 
tim, that strength, flexibility, and almost sponta- 
neous obedience of the muscles, which the idea 
and cheering presentiment of health hold out to 
him. He finds their value in their present ne- 
cessity, and their worth as they are the instruments 
of finally superseding it. This is a faithful, a 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 225 

wise prudence, having indeed its birth-place in 
the world, and the wisdom of this world for its 
father ; but naturalized in a better land, and having" 
the Wisdom from above for its Sponsor and Spiri- 
tual Parent." 

The Pilgrim is in rags, the rags of depravity and 
sin, and the intolerable burden of sin is bending 
him down ; but the book is in his hand, and his 
face is from his own house. Reading and ponder- 
ing, and full of perplexity, foreboding and a sense 
of sin, gloom and wrath, he cries out, What shall 
I do ! This is his first exclamation. He has not 
as yet advanced so far as to say, What shall I do 
to be saved? And now for some days the solemnity, 
and burden, and distress of his spirit increases ; his 
unconverted friends see that he is " becoming 
serious ;" they think it is some distemper of the 
mind or animal spirits ; they hope he may sleep it 
away ; they chide, neglect, deride him ; carna! 
physic for a sick soul, as Bunyan describes it in 
the margin, is administered. But nothing answers. 
The sense of his mortal disease and danger, the 
painful sense of sin, and of what is to come on 
account of it, increases. Not even his wife and 
sweet babes can do any thing for him, but only 
add to his misery in a sense of their danger as 
well as his own. He pities and prays for those 
who deride him, and spends much solitary time in 
reading and praying. He looks this way and that 
way, as if he would run, and cries out in the 
anguish of his wounded spirit, What shall I do to 
be saved 1 This is the first stage of genuine con- 
viction. " I perceive by the book in my hand, that 

29 



226 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

I am condemned to die, and after that to come 
to judgment ; and I find that I am not willing to 
do the first nor able to do the second." 

And now he meets Evangelist, who gives him 
the parchment roll, Flee from the wrath to come ! 
It is a godly minister of Christ, whom the Father 
of mercies has sent to help him. Bunyan has 
here put in the margin, Conviction of the neces- 
sity of fleeing. But which way shall I fly ? Then 
said Evangelist, pointing with his finger over a 
very wide field, Do you see yonder Wicket Gate I 
The man said, No. He cannot see that yet, he is 
in such darkness. Then said the other, Do you 
see yonder shining light ? Thy word is as a lamp 
unto my feet, and a light unto my path. He said, 
I think I do. Then said Evangelist, Keep that 
light in your eye, and go up directly thereto, 
so shalt thou see the gate ; at which, when thou 
knockest, it shall be told thee what thou shalt 
do. Bunyan has here put in the margin, Christ, 
and the way to him cannot be found without the 
Word. So, if any awakened sinner will fill his 
eye with that light, and follow it, it will bring him 
to Christ. 

And now the trembling Pilgrim, with fixed re- 
solution, having a glimpse of the light, and a definite 
direction, begins to run ; it is an unutterable relief 
to his perplexities to run towards Christ ; though 
as yet he sees him not. But now the world cla- 
mors after him, yea, the dearest ones in it try to 
stop him ; but the fire in his conscience is stronger 
than they ; he stops his ears, and runs without 
looking behind him, and stays not in all the plain, 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 227 

but runs as swiftly as his burden will let him, crying, 
Life, life, eternal life ! 

And now he is fairly set out. But he becomes 
a gazing stock to the world, and some of them set 
off after him to fetch him back. There is no 
telling the wiles, which ungodly ridiculing com- 
panions have sometimes tried, to turn their awa- 
kened friends from the way of life. There is nothing 
can stand against such enemies, but a resolute pur- 
pose like Christian's, a fire in the conscience, and a 
fixedness in the word of God. These things will 
not, indeed, if he goes no farther, make a man a 
Christian ; but these things, as long as they last, 
will make him despise the world's ridicule, and if 
he runs on, he will soon, by God's grace, get be- 
yond the reach of ridicule, beyond all worldly 
harm- 

Two of these City of Destruction men, who came 
to bring Christian back, Obstinate and Pliable, are 
portraitures of classes. They, together with 
Christian, constitute the representatives of most 
of the hearers of the Gospel, and of the manner 
in which they receive it ; they are either hardened 
against it, or are somew T hat softened and disposed 
to set out, or they become real Pilgrims. Obsti- 
nate, finding Christian was not to be moved, 
tried to persuade Pliable not to give heed to him ; 
and then he went railing back, saying, I will be 
no companion to such misled, fantastical fellows. 

And now Christian and Pliable went talking 
over the plain, Christian with a sense of sin and of 
the terrors of the Lord, with the fire in his con- 
science and the burden on his back, yet something 



228 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

of the light of life already within him, and a reso- 
lute purpose never to give over seeking Christ ; 
Pliable, with some slight superficial sympathy and 
conviction, and somewhat moved with what Chris- 
tian had told him of the glories of the heavenly 
inheritance at the end of their pilgrimage, but with 
no sense of sin, no knowledge of his own heart, no 
desire after Christ, no feeling of his need of a 
Saviour. In their talk, Christian speaks really 
like a Christian already, though he is not one 
yet ; and certainly, his ravishing descriptions of 
the things that are to be enjoyed in heaven are 
very instructive, as showing how far the mind 
may be affected with a merely intellectual and 
imaginative sense of the beauty and excellency of 
the Gospel, and the glory of its promises, without 
regeneration. Nevertheless, it must be remem- 
bered, that where a work of grace is really begun in 
the soul, though as yet it may not have gone farther 
than genuine conviction of sin, yet the sense of 
divine things in such a soul is very different, even 
before regeneration, from the views of the man, 
whom the Spirit of God is not beginning to teach. 
Moreover, they are very different in a man who 
has been accustomed to God's word, and in one 
who has not. Pliable begs to be told more fully 
what the glorious things are, and how to be enjoyed. 
So Christian goes directly to his book. " I cannot 
describe them," he says to Pliable, " so well as I 
can conceive them, but I will read them to you in 
my book." 

And now you see the difference between a man 
who has been educated in the precious belief of the 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 229 

Gospel as the word of God, and has been brought 
up in the habit of reading it, and the man who has 
all his life neglected it, and is a stranger to it. You 
may see what a faint hold the Gospel has over the 
one, and what a strong hold over the other. Of 
these two men, neither of them as yet Christians, 
Pliable is doubtful, Christian is as firm and un- 
shaken as a rock. Christian also, in the very 
sense of sin within him, begins to have an irre- 
sistible proof and sense of the truth of God's word, 
of which Pliable, without any such inward expe- 
rience and conviction, is entirely destitute. " I will 
read of them in my book," says Christian. " And 
do you think," says Pliable, " that the words of 
your book are certainly true V " Yes, verily," says 
Christian, "for it was made by him that cannot lie." 
There is a volume in those touches of Bunyan's 
pencil. What sweet simplicity of faith already 
in the Pilgrim ! True 1 certainly it is true ; for it 
is God's word, God that cannot lie. 

Well said, answered Pliable, and what things 
are they 1 There is an endless kingdom to be 
inhabited, said Christian, and everlasting life to 
be given us, that we may inhabit that kingdom 
forever. Well said, answered Pliable, and what 
else 1 

Chr. There are crowns of glory to be given us, 
and garments that will make us shine like the sun 
in the firmament of heaven. 

Pli. This is very pleasant, and what else 1 

Chr. There shall be no more crying nor sorrow ; 
for he that is owner of the place will wipe all tears 
from our eyes. 



230 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

PL And what company shall we have there I 

Ckr. There we shall be with Cherubim and Se- 
raphim, creatures that will dazzle your eyes to look 
on them. There also you shall meet with thou- 
sands and ten thousands that have gone before us 
to that place ; none of them are hurtful, but loving 
and holy ; everyone walking in the sight of God, and 
standing in his presence with acceptance forever. In 
a word, there we shall see the elders with their gold- 
en crowns ; there we shall see the holy virgins with 
their golden harps ; there we shall see men that by 
the world were cut in pieces, burnt in flames, eaten 
of beasts, drowned in the seas, for the love they 
bore to the Lord of the place ; all well, and clothed 
with immortality as with a garment* 

Pli. The hearing of this is enough to ravish 
one's heart ; but are these things to be enjoyed ? 
How shall we get to be sharers thereof? 

Chr. The Lord, the governor of the country, 
hath recorded that in his book ; the substance of 
which is, if we be truly willing to have it, he will- 
bestow it upon us freely. 

Pli. Well, my good companion, glad am I to- 
hear of these things ; come on, let us mend our 
pace. 

Here you have another volume of meaning in a 
single touch of the pencil. Pliable is one of those 
who are willing, or think they are willing, to have 
heaven, but without any sense of sin, or of the labor 
and self-denial necessary to enter heaven. But 
now his heart is momentarily fired with Christian's 
ravishing descriptions, and as he seems to have 
nothing to trouble his conscience, and no difficul- 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 231 

ties to overcome, the pace of an honest, thorough 
inquirer, the movement of a soul sensible of its 
distresses and its sins, and desiring comfort only 
in the way of healing and of holiness, seems much 
too slow for him. He is for entering heaven at 
once, going much faster than that poor Christian can 
keep up with him. Then, said Christian, I cannot 
go so fast as I would, by reason of this burden that 
is on my back. 

Of poor Christian's burden of sin, Pliable was 
totally ignorant, and doubtless Christian was not a 
little grieved within himself, to see how lightly Plia- 
ble could step forward, while it was with much ado 
that he could take step after step beneath that great 
and heavy burden. So sometimes, they who are hear- 
tily and conscientiously, with a deep sense of sin, 
seeking after Christ, do almost look with envy and 
much surprise upon those others, who seem to run 
with so little difficulty, and sometimes, moreover, 
seem to find Christ without having any burden to 
be taken off by him. But Christian had the bur- 
den from his first setting out, and could by no 
means be rid of it. 

However, Pliable's eagerness to get forward did 
not continue a great while. They were both walk- 
ing somewhat heedlessly in the midst of their talk, 
as inquirers are very apt to do, when they converse 
more than they pray, and missing the steps, or 
taking that for firm ground which was nothing but 
mud, they both fell into the Slough of Despond. 
This was especially sudden and unexpected to Pli- 
able, who was not dreaming of difficulties, and it 
quenched his eagerness at once ; and although 



232 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

Christian beneath his burden was sinking far deeper 
than he, yet he was filled with rage and discou- 
ragement. Is this the brave country you told me 
of? You may have it all to yourself for me ; let 
me but get out with my life, and never again will I 
set out on a pilgrimage. 

Now r it is not always that the Pliables of this 
world, who have some transitory sympathy towards 
heaven, and set out for a season in this pilgrimage, 
get so immediately tired, and turn back with such 
open rage and discouragement. And yet this 
character, it is a most melancholy truth, is the 
representative of a class almost innumerable. 
Almost all men are at some period of their lives 
inclined to set out on this pilgrimage. Under 
God's Providence, Word and Spirit, it cannot be 
otherwise ; for men do and will feel that death and 
the judgment are before them ; and all that plea- 
sures and business and cares can do, they cannot 
utterly stifle the voice of conscience, nor the 
sense of sin, God and eternity. And when these 
fires revive a little in the soul, and burst up out 
of the thick ashes, then men begin to think of 
this pilgrimage, then they begin to feel that they 
are inhabiting a City of Destruction, and must be 
getting out of it ; then in fact they do often set 
out for a little season, but not having much sense 
of sin, nor any purpose of renouncing it, nor any 
settled resolution, cost what it may, of becoming 
the disciples of Christ, they soon become wearied 
or discouraged, and turn back. Alas for them . r 
Their case is worse when they get back to the 
City of Destruction than it was even while they 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 233 

were tumbling in the Slough of Despond. A 
sense of shame pursues them as long as they 
live, for their tergiversasion. Oftentimes the in- 
habitants of that city do at first as stoutly ridicule 
those who turn back as those who set out; and 
oftentimes you will find those who have turned 
back become the loudest in their ridicule of the 
whole pilgrimage. Alas ! the world is full of 
Pliables, who have not decision enough, in the 
face of contempt, trial and danger, to run to- 
wards heaven ; and yet they have many designs of 
doing so ; but the Word in their hearts is among 
thorns ; the cares and pleasures and riches of 
this world, the lusts of other things, choke the 
Word, although there be good designs; and hence 
the proverb, that hell is paved with good in- 
tentions. 

Farewell, then, to Pliable, who after a desperate 
struggle or two, got out of the mire on that side of 
the slough that was nearest his own house, and so 
Christian saw him no more forever. If he had borne 
Christian's burden, at first setting out, that is, if he 
had had an awakened conscience, a view of his 
guilt, and of the wrath which he deserved, and had 
reason to dread on account of it, not forty Sloughs 
of Despond would have turned him back, nor all 
the ridicule in the world would have moved him 
And you see in the case of these two men how 
much more powerful are the terrors of the law and 
a sense of sin, as motives in an unconverted mind, 
than any mere description of the glories of heaven. 
That is good in its place, good when there is also 
a sense of sin to accompany it ; and as in the case 

31 



234 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

of Christian, where there is this burden on the soul, 
then the description of those glories will have an 
effect deep and lasting, while in the case of one 
who does not feel that burden, does not see and 
feel his guilt, as with Pliable, the most ravishing 
description of Heaven, will be but as a sweet tune 
on a flute flung to the wind and forgotten ; it will 
make but a momentary impression, create only a 
transitory, superficial sympathy. There must be 
the preaching of the law and a law T -work in 
the conscience, before men are likely even to set 
out resolutely for heaven, and without this law- 
work they do almost invariably turn back ; unless, 
indeed, avoiding the Slough of Despond, and all 
the difficulties Christian met with, they take up 
with a false hope, as Ignorance did, and make a 
profession of religion ; in which case they may, 
even as Ignorance^ hold on to the last, and even at 
the river of Death, be ferried over in the boat of 
one named Self-Conceit, not to find out their 
error, till on coming up and knocking at the 
gate, and crying, Lord, Lord, open- unto us, the 
Lord shall answer, I never knew you. 

And now is poor Christian left to struggle alone ; 
and with the burden on his back, lamentable indeed 
is his case in the Slough of Despond. And here 
he would have remained and died, for he w T oald 
struggle in no direction but that toward the Wicket 
Gate, the side farthest from his own house, had not 
a heavenly helper reached forth his hand to draw 
him out. Some men, like Pliable, endeavor to 
throw off their convictions of sin, by returning to 
worldly pleasures, getting out of the Slough on the 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 235 

side nearest the City of Destruction ; this, you re- 
member, Bunyan himself did at one time ; from his 
convictions he returned desperately to his sports. 
But the resolute Pilgrim, once fixed toward heaven, 
will not seek to be rid of his burden in any way 
but by going to Christ ; in the midst of his dis- 
tressing convictions, he will still struggle, as Chris- 
tian did, toward the side farthest from the City of 
Destruction ; and so doing he will find help. 

In this Slough of Despond there were good and 
firm steps, sound promises to stand upon, a cause- 
way indeed, better than adamant, clear across the 
treacherous quagmires ; but mark you, fear follow- 
ed Christian so hard, that he fled the nearest way, 
and fell in, not stopping to look for the steps, or 
not thinking of them. Now this is often just the 
operation of fear ; it sets the threatenings against 
the promises, when it ought simply to direct the 
soul/ra??ithe threatenings, to the promises. That is 
the object of the threatenings to make the pro- 
mises shine, and to make the soul lay hold upon 
them, and that is the purpose and the tendency of 
a salutary fear of the divine wrath on account of 
sin, to make the believer flee directly to the pro- 
mises, and advance on them to Christ. But in 
general, men under conviction of sin, having more 
desire to escape from hell than to get to Christ ; 
more desire to be relieved of their distresses than to 
become holy ; are blinded by the very fears which 
should have pointed out the promises, and without 
looking narrowly for those steps, they struggle for 
relief rather than holiness, for comfort rather than 
Christ, and so fall deeper into difficulty. Just so 



286 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

in all applications that we make of any remedies 
but the Gospel ; in all directions that we go for re- 
lief but just to Christ, and with all the physicians 
we can have without him, our sickness of sin and 
misery never grows better, but rather grows worse. 
Flying from our fears, we fly only into greater guilt 
and fear, if we do not flee to Christ. Struggling 
to be rid of our burden, it only sinks us deeper in 
the mire, if we do not rest by faith upon the pro- 
mises, and so come indeed to Christ. Precious 
promises they are, and so free and full of forgive- 
ness and eternal life, that certainly the moment a 
dying soul feels its guilt and misery, that soul may 
lay hold upon them, and find Christ in them ; and 
were it not for unbelief, there need be no Slough of 
Despond for the soul to struggle and plunge in its 
mire of depravity. 

You see, said the dreamer's teacher, this Slough of 
Despond is a dreadful place, because unbelief and 
sin are such deep and dreadful evils. And as long 
as unbelief continues it cannot be mended ; for still 
as the sinner is awakened about his lost condition, 
there arise in his soul many fears and doubts, and 
discouraging apprehensions, which all of them get 
together and settle in this place ; and this is the 
reason of the badness of this ground. 

It is not the pleasure of the King that this place 
should remain so bad : his laborers also have, by 
the direction of his majesty's surveyors, been above 
these eighteen hundred years employed about this 
patch of ground, if perhaps it might have been 
mended; millions of cartloads of wholesome in- 
structions have been swallowed up in it, that have 



AND SLOtJGH OF DESPOND. 237 

at all seasons been brought from all places of the 
King's dominions ; the very best materials to make 
good ground of the place, if so it might have been 
mended ; but it is the Slough of Despond still, and 
so will be, when they have done what they can. 
Nevertheless, the steps are there, if the burdened 
and terrified Pilgrims will but take them ; and the 
ground is good, when they are once got in at the 
gate. There was also a heavenly Helper for poor 
Christian, as there always will be for one who is 
humble and sincere, even though, in the excess of 
his fear, he mis&es the steps, and seems to be sink- 
ing to destruction. The Lord will not leave him 
to perish, any more than he left Peter, because 
of his unbelief, to sink to the bottom. The Lord 
Jesus Christ can never resist that outcry of the 
sinking soul, Lord, save me, I perish ! 

And now you may think perhaps that Christian 
having got out of the Slough of Despond, and 
fairly on his way, it is all well with him ; but not 
so, for now he comes into a peril that is far greater 
than the last, a peril through which we suppose 
that every soul that ever goes on pilgrimage passes, 
and a peril in which multitudes that get safely 
across the Slough of Despond, perish forever. For 
now Christian meets, not with mud and mire, but 
with Mr. Worldly Wiseman, from the great town 
of Carnal Policy, who besets and way-lays him with 
another gospel. He directs him to a famous 
preacher of that gospel, Mr. Legality, a gentleman 
whose parish is in the very respectable village of 
Morality, where there are nice, honest and amiable 
neighbors, in credit and good fashion, where pro- 



238 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

vision is cheap and good, where there are houses 
that stand empty to be had at a very reasonable 
rate, where Christian can get good and comforta- 
ble garments, and withal fashionable, instead of 
those rags that he has on his back ; where also he 
can get rid of his burden, for Mr, Legality hath 
great skill to take off the Pilgrim's burdens, and 
also to cure those that are somewhat crazed in 
their wits on account of them. He hath also a 
pretty young man to his son, Mr, Civility, who 
can take off a burden, if need be, as well as the old 
gentleman ; and moreover, to this very respectable 
village Christian can remove his wife and children, 
and so not be separated from them ; and Mr, 
Worldly Wiseman would have him do this by all 
means, and so not go back to the City of Destruc- 
tion at all. 

Now, is not all this very pleasant, a most com- 
fortable prospect, rather than to forsake all that he 
hath, and go on in a pilgrimage began with so many 
dangers'? Here you see that Christian need no 
longer be in fear on account of the City of De- 
struction, for the town of Morality would keep him 
safe, even if that Sodom, which Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman would certainly not advise him any 
longer to live in, should be burned up with fire on 
account of the sins of its inhabitants. Nevertheless, 
the comfort and respectability of this place would 
not have tempted Christian, had it not been for the 
advantage which Mr. Worldly Wiseman had over 
him, because of his great desire and eagerness to 
be rid of his burden. The very first thing, when 
Mr. Worldly Wiseman met him, and asked him 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND, 289 

whither he was going after this burdened manner, 
groaning and sighing so heavily, Christian made 
answer that he was going to get rid of his burden, 
and for that purpose was going to the Wicket Gate. 
Now see the advice of Mr. Worldly Wiseman, and 
how it chimes in with the soul's desire for comfort 
rather than holiness. Christian was very impatient 
to get rid of his burden. Well, said Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman, wilt thou hearken to me, if I give thee 
counsel X Certainly, said Christian, I stand in 
great need of good counsel. Well then, said Mr. 
Worldly Wiseman, I w r ould advise thee that with 
all speed thou get rid of thy burden ; for thou wilt 
never be settled in thy mind till then; nor canst 
thou enjoy the benefit of the blessings which God 
hath bestowed upon thee till then. 

This was counsel indeed ! Get rid of thy bur- 
den, get rid of thy burden ! This is the amount 
of the teachings of morality, this the perilous voice 
of all teachers that do not point the sinner to Christ, 
and his atoning sacrifice. Get rid of thy burden, 
it is a foolish thing ; secure thy comfort by going 
to the town of Morality, and placing thyself under 
the pastoral care of that very judicious man and civil 
gentleman, Mr. Legality. Evangelist had directed 
Christian to Christ ; he had not told him to get rid 
of his burden, but to go to Christ, and Christ 
would remove it in good time. Now that was good 
counsel, all the counsel that Christian needed ; but 
still he was very impatient to be rid of his burden, 
and so Mr. Worldly Wiseman's counsels pointed to 
the same thing, and with great ingenuity he tried 
to prejudice Christian against Evangelist, and the 



240 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

strait and narrow way. Mr. Worldly Wiseman, and 
all his connections, dislike the atonement ; the Cross 
of Christ is foolishness unto them, except to make 
signs with it, and put it on the roofs of their houses 
and the outside of their churches. In all likelihood 
Mr. Legality's own chapel, in that town of Morality, 
had a cross on the top of it ; for so do men, who deny 
the atonement, cover up that denial by mingling 
the atonement and morality together, which answers 
the same purpose as denying it utterly ; for if a 
man seeks to get rid of his burden by mortality in 
part, he does not rest on the atonement at all. 
And just so, the men who hate the great truth of 
justification by faith, because that cuts off all 
worldly pride,, and kills sin and self utterly, will 
often not avow that hatred plainly, but say that men 
must be justified by faith and works together ; 
whereas, it is the blood of Christ alone, and no 
works, though a man had a universe full of them 
to present to God, that can cleanse the soul from 
sin. 

However, Mr. Worldly Wiseman was very plump 
and bold in his condemnation of Evangelist and 
his doctrine. " Beshrew him for his counsel ! there 
is not a more dangerous and troublesome way in 
the world, than is that into which he hath directed 
thee ; and that thou shaltfind, if thou wilt be ruled 
by his counsel. Thou hast met with something, 
as I perceive, already, for I see the dirt of the 
Slough of Despond is upon thee ; but that Slough 
is the beginning of the sorrows that do attend those 
that go on in that way. Hear me, I am older than 
thou ; thou art like to meet with in the way which 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 241 

thou goest, weansomeness, painfullness, hunger, 
perils, nakedness, swords, lions, dragons, darkness, 
and in a word, death and what not. These things 
are certainly true, having been confirmed by many 
testimonies. And should a man so carelessly cast 
away himself by giving heed to a stranger ?" 

Mr. Worldly Wiseman had read his Bible to 
some purpose, after all, for he almost gives Paul's 
exact catalogue of the evils he had met with in his 
pilgrimage. But Paul said, None of these things 
move me, and these things are not worthy to be 
compared with the glory that shall be revealed. 
Mr. Worldly Wiseman could understand the cata- 
logue of evils, and he thought to frighten Christian 
with them ; but he could not understand the glory, 
and he had not calculated the power of genuine 
conviction of sin, to make a man despise death itself 
for the sake of deliverance from it. See now, says 
Bunyan in the margin, the frame of the heart of 
a young Christian. Why, sir, said Christian, this 
burden upon my back is more terrible to me than 
are all those things which you have mentioned; 
nay, methinks I care not what I meet with in the 
way, if so be I can also meet with deliverance from 
my burden. 

How earnest thou by thy burden at first 1 

By reading this book in my hand, said Christian. 

And now, Mr. Worldly Y/iseman goes further, 
and shows, as Bunyan says in the margin, that he 
does not like that men should be serious in reading 
the Bible. I thought so, said he, and it is happened 
unto thee as to other weak men, who, meddling 
with things too high for them, do suddenly fall into 

31 



242 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

thy distractions ; which distractions do not only 
unman men, as thine I perceive have done thee, 
but they run them upon desperate ventures, to 
obtain they know not what. 

This conversation of Mr. Worldly Wiseman is 
almost the exact counterpart of the dealings of 
those teachers who deny the Divinity and Atone- 
ment of Christ, and the truth of everlasting pun- 
ishment. One of the most celebrated of those 
teachers in his day had been himself in early life 
under deep conviction of sin, had set out from 
the City of Destruction, but had turned into the 
town of Morality, and established himself as a 
preacher there. He used to say to those whom he 
ever saw in distress on account of Christian's bur- 
den, or Evangelist's counsel, I have been that way 
myself, and know all about it ; I have passed 
through all that experience, and know that it is all 
nonsense. These distresses on account of sin are 
pure fanaticism, they are unmanly superstitions, 
which pleasant company, exercise and recreation 
will drive away. 

Why wilt thou seek for ease this way of the Cross, 
said Mr. Worldly Wiseman, seeing so many dangers 
attend it, especially since, hadst thou but patience 
to hear me, I could direct thee to the obtaining of 
what thou desirest, without the dangers that thou in 
this way wilt run thyself into ; yea, and the remedy 
is at hand ; beside, I will add that instead of these 
dangers thou shalt meet with much safety, friend- 
ship and content. 

Now was Christian snared by these counsels, and 
taking Mr Worldly Wiseman's direction to Mr. 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 243 

Legality's house, past Mount Sinai, for by that way- 
he must go, he set out. But behold, when he was 
now got hard by the hill, it seemed so high, and also 
that side of it that was next the wayside did hang 
so much over, that Christian was afraid to venture 
further, lest the hill should fall on his head ; 
wherefore, then he stood still, and wotted not what 
to do. Also, his burden now seemed heavier to him 
than while he was in his way. There came also 
flashes of fire out of the hill that made Christian 
afraid that he should be burnt ; here therefore he 
did sweat and quake for fear. Poor Christian ! he 
could not get past Mount Sinai ! Nay, happy 
Christian ! in that the terrors of the law got such 
hold upon him, that they would not let him pass ; 
for if he had gone by, he too, like many thousand 
others, would have gone to the town of Morality, 
and got comfortably settled in perdition. He would 
have become a member of Mr. Legality's parish, if 
he could have got past this mountain. But here 
Evangelist found him, half dead with shame, con- 
fusion and terror. And here, with the most in- 
genuous simplicity and contrition, Christian made 
confession of his guilt. Yes, dear sir, I am the 
man ! And now the reproofs and instructions of 
Evangelist are incomparably beautiful, and Chris- 
tian, bemoaning his folly and sin in listening to 
the wicked counsels of the Deceiver, applied him- 
self again to Evangelist in words and sense as 
follows : — 

Sir, what think you ? Is there any hope 1 
May I now go back, and go up to the Wicket 
Gate ! Shall I not be abandoned for this, and 



244 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

sent back from thence ashamed 1 I am sorry I 
have harkened to this man's counsel ; but may my 
sin be forgiven 1 

The mingling of reproof and encouragement with 
which Evangelist comforted the penitent, is exqui- 
sitely wise and beautiful. A rare pastor Bunyan 
found in holy Mr. Gifford, to be able to draw so 
sweet and grave a character from real life. Evan- 
gelist kissed him, gave him one smile, and bid him 
God speed. And now you may be sure there was 
no more turning of Christian out of the way, no 
more inclination after Sinai, or Mr. Legality, or 
the town of Morality, not though a hundred world- 
ly wisemen had beset him. As an arrow to its 
mark, he went straight with haste, neither spake 
he to any man by the way ; nor if any asked him 
would he vouchsafe them an answer. This expe- 
rience of Sinai was enough for him, nor could he 
think himself safe, till in process of time he got up 
to the gate. There he knocked with trembling 
earnestness, for over the gate was written, Knock, 

AND IT SHALL BE OPENED UNTO YOU. 

May I now enter here, said Christian, 

May I now enter here ? Will he within 
Open to sorry me, though I have been 
An undeserving rebel ? Then shall I 
Not fail to sing his lasting praise on high. 

Bunyan has put in the margin, the gate will be 
open to broken-hearted sinners ; and so it was, 
and Christian went in. But as he was stepping in, 
the kind Master gave him a sudden pull, at which 
Christian wondered ; but he was told that at a little 
distance from the gate there was a frowning castle, 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 245 

under command of Beeizebub, from whence they 
shot arrows at those that were entering the gate, 
or had come up to it, if haply they might die be- 
fore they could enter. So Christian entered with 
joy and trembling. 

This undoubtedly is an incident drawn from Bun- 
yan's own experience ; for often when he himself was 
standing at mercy r s gate, and knocking as for his life 
for entrance, he had been assaulted by these fiends : 
when he was praying, then especially would there 
sometimes come a fiery storm of the darts of the 
Wicked One, so that often he thought he should 
have died indeed beneath them. Doubtless some- 
thing like this is the experience of all who come up 
to this gate ; for sometimes the point of greatest 
difficulty and danger is just that point where the 
oul is summoning all its forces to come to Christ, 
or where it is just about sweetly to cast itself upon 
his mercy ; or where there is a great decisive 
struggle at the Wicket Gate, between good and evil 
in the soul, and where the perishing sinner is just 
able to say, Lord, I believe, help thou mine unbelief. 
All moments of decision are moments of danger, 
and when Satan, from his battlement, sees the soul 
knocking at the gate, then he says within himself, 
It is my last hope ; my archers must destroy him 
now or never. And so sometimes just the point of 
mercy is the point of greatest strife and danger. 

A characteristic instructive conversation ensued 
between Christian and the Man at the Gate, in the 
course of which, Christian, being questioned, told 
the man about his adventures in the Slough of 
Despond, and how Pliable had left him : and here 



246 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION 

Bunyan has put in the margin, A man may have com- 
pany when he sets out for heaven, and yet go thither 
alone ; but Christian also added, with sweet inge- 
nuousness, that he was quite as bad as Pliable, for 
that he also had turned aside to go in the way of 
death, being persuaded thereto by the carnal argu- 
ments of one Mr. Worldly Wiseman. The Man at 
the gate comforted and encouraged him, and pointed 
out the strait and narrow way before him, so that he 
could not miss it ; and now Christian was about 
to gird up his loins, and address himself to his 
journey, but oh that heavy burden ! Christian 
could not go without asking to be rid of his burden ; 
so kind and skilful a man, (thought he,) may surely 
take it off, and I am sore weary with it. But the 
answer he received was memorable. As to thy bur^ 
den, be content to bear it, until thou comest to the 
place of deliverance ; for there it will fall from thy 
back of itself. Bunyan has here put in the margin, 
There is no deliverance from the guilt and burden 
of sin, but by the death and blood of Christ. 

Now there is a vast deal of instruction and com- 
fort in this last incident. Young Christians are 
very apt to expect entire relief from all their bur^ 
dens, and a complete deliverance from sin, the mo- 
ment they are got within the W T icket Gate, the mo- 
ment they have come to Christ. But very often 
this expectation is not realized, and then they faint 
and become disheartened, or filled with gloomy 
doubts on this account. Now this experience of 
Christian having to bear his burden so long, and 
yet going on so patiently with it, for you will ob- 
serve, he asked nobody after this to take off his 



AND SLOUGH OF DESPOND. 247 

burden, is very instructive and encouraging. The 
truth is, we are all more apt to be seeking for com- 
fort, than for Christ ; whereas Christ should be our 
first object, and comfort will come of itself ; Christ 
first, and all things else shall be added. 

By the experience of Christian and Pliable in 
their commencement of this pilgrimage we are 
taught some salutary lessons, as first, the impor- 
tance of a deep and thorough conviction of sin at 
first setting out ; second, the importance of a reso- 
lute purpose in seeking" salvation, so as not to be 
turned back ; and third, the importance of a hearty 
reception and thorough knowledge of God's word. 
The difficulties that Christian meets and overcomes 
in the beginning, do, instead of discouraging him, 
prepare him for constancy and conquest even to the 
end. It is no superficial Christian that Bunyan is 
describing, but a man of Cod, thoroughly furnished 
unto all good works ; a soldier clad in armor of 
proof, the armor of righteousness on the right hand 
and on the left. He needed, as we shall see, a 
deep and thorough discipline from the beginning, 
in order to prepare him for the fiery ordeal through 
which he was to pass. 

It is always thus that God deals with his people ; 
the discipline of the Christian race and conflict is 
such, in its very nature, as best to prepare them 
for usefulness here, and for their place in glory here- 
after. If there is to be endurance to the end, 
there must be thoroughness at the beginning; if 
victory at the end, a fight at the beginning ; if rest 
at the end, a burden at the beginning. There 
must be fires to consume the dross here, if there is 



248 THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION. 

to be endless brightness and purity hereafter ; self- 
denial and suffering in this world must prepare the 
way to glorify God and enjoy him forever. There 
was a great connection between Christian's burden 
at first, and his delight in God afterwards ; so there 
was between all the toils of his pilgrimage, and his 
panting desires after God ; for certainly, if this 
pilgrimage were all the way a way of ease, then we 
should not much desire to hasten on in it, or to 
come to the end of it, or to see God in heaven ; too 
much satisfied with the sweetness of the streams, 
we should stay away from the fountain. We hav- 
ing here no continuing city, seek one to come, that 
city which hath foundations, whose builder and 
maker is God. 

Jerusalem, Jerusalem, 

Would God I were with thee ! 
Oh that my sorrows had an end, 

Thy joys that I might see ! 
Thy walls are made of precious stone, 

Thy bulwarks diamond square ; 
Thy gates are made of orient pearl ; 

O God, if I were there ! 

O happy harbor of God's saints I 

O sweet and pleasant soil ! 
In thee no sorrows can be found, 

No grief, no care, no toil. 
No dimly cloud o'ershadows thee, 

No gloom nor darksome night, 
But every soul shines as the sun, 

For God himself gives light. 

Lord, in my forehead plant thy name, 

And take me hence away, 
That I may dwell with thee in bliss. 

And sing thy praise for aye. 
O mother dear, Jerusalem ! 

When shall I come to thee 1 
When shall my sorrows have an end ? 

Thy joys when shall I see ? 




.CA -rrrg rtage. 









. 



CHRISTIAN 



IN THE 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 



Meaning of the Interpreter, what great personage he stands for. — Richness and beauty 
of his instructions.— The Law and the Gospel as sweepers of the soul. — Passion 
and Patience, Sense and Faith. — How grace is sustained in the soul. — How the 
victory is gained by the Man in armor. — Misery of the soul in Despair. — 
Dream of the Judgment. — Power of conscience. — Beauty of the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress as a book for Childhood. — Christian's deliverance from his burden. 

It would be difficult to find twelve consecutive 
pages in the English language, that contain such 
volumes of meaning, in such beautiful and instruc- 
tive lessons, with such heavenly imagery, in so pure 
and sweet a style, and with so thrilling an appeal 
to the best affections of the heart, as these pages 
descriptive of Christian's sojourning in the House 
of the Interpreter. This good man of the House, 
the Interpreter, we are, without doubt, to take as 
the representative of the Holy Spirit, with his 
enlightening and sanctifying influences on the 
heart. He is our Comforter, Guardian and Guide 
through all our pilgrimage ; our Instructor to take 
of the things which are Christ's, and to show them 
to our souls ; our Sanctifier, to lead us into all 
truth, and to make it the nourishing food of our 
souls, and with it and in it bringing Christ before 
us continually, to fasten our affections upon him, 

32 



250 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

and make him, of God, unto us, our wisdom, 
righteousness, sanctification and redemption. From 
the first moment of a Christian's setting out on 
his pilgrimage, this heavenly Comforter takes him 
under his peculiar guidance ; so soon as he en- 
ters the Strait Gate, and puts himself under the 
care of the Great Shepherd, then the Spirit of 
God begins the work of discipline, instruction, 
refinement and sanctification with him as a child 
of God. So you will observe that the very first 
thing which the Interpreter said to Christian was, 
Come in, and I will show thee that which will 
be profitable unto thee. And then he bid his 
man light the candle, and brought Christian into a 
private room, where he showed him the first of the 
beautiful and instructive visions that were to pass 
before him. Bunyan has put in the margin the 
word Illumination, and he might have added the 
text, Open thou mine eyes that I may behold won- 
drous things out of thy law. Or he might have 
referred us to the blessed walk of the two disci- 
ples with Christ in the way to Emmaus, when he 
opened their understandings, that they might un- 
derstand the Scriptures ; for such a w 7 ork does the 
Spirit of God commence with us, when he lights 
the candle of the Lord within our hearts. 

But we are to observe that Christian did not get 
into the house of the Interpreter, nor obtain his 
precious guidance, without knocking, yea, and that 
earnestly. This is to signify that after Christ has 
let us in, as we hope, at the Wicket Gate, our great 
and immediate work must be to seek with most 
humble diligence and earnestness the gracious illu- 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 251 

minating and sanctifying influences of his Spirit. 
In our first ignorance and darkness how greatly 
they are needed no language can tell. The young 
convert will make but a poor soldier of Jesus 
Christ, but a weak and lagging pilgrim, if he does 
not go directly to the House of the Interpreter. Ah, 
what earnest prayer is needed, that the soul, having 
come to Christ, may be filled with the Spirit, be 
rooted and grounded in love, and built up in him, 
and prepared to show forth his praises. Be assured 
that the immediate time which passes after a soul's 
conversion is of indescribable importance for all 
after life. If it be passed in the House of the 
Interpreter, and under his divine instruction, if 
the soul is much in prayer for divine grace and 
illumination, then will there be a rich and precious 
preparation for a joyful and triumphant pilgrimage, 
in which the path of the soul shall be as a shining 
light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect 
day. But if joy comes first, without the instruc- 
tion and discipline of the Interpreter, then will 
there be trouble afterwards, a great many falls by 
the way, a great many Hill Difficulties, and perhaps 
a great many weeks instead of days passed in 
the Castle of Giant Despair. When a soul first 
comes to Christ, then for many days it ought to 
abide with the Holy Spirit, and when this is done, 
who shall say how many sights of glory may be 
seen, how many rich and refining experiences be 
enjoyed; how rapidly the soul may grow, and be 
transfigured, as it were, with the influences of 
divine truth, while thus it is alone with God ; how 
it may be knit and strengthened for all future toils 



252 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

and combats, and prepared to go through the world 
almost as a seraph of light, prepared at any rate, 
like Paul, so to run not as uncertainly, so to fight 
not as one that beateth the air. 

The first sight which Christian saw was a 
" brave picture," an exquisite portrait of a grave 
and saintly man, who had his eyes lifted up to 
Heaven, the best of books in his hand, the Law 
of Truth was written upon his lips, the world was 
behind his back ; it stood as if it pleaded with men y 
and a crown of gold did hang over its head. And 
whose portrait is Banyan describing here'? Again, 
we think he had only Mr. GifFord in his eye as a 
faithful minister of Christ ; bat Bunyan too had 
been the pleader with men, and over his own 
head the crown of gold was shining, and while he 
wrote these words you may be sure that his spirit 
thrilled within him as he said, And I too am a 
minister of Jesus Christ ! This picture was shown 
by the Interpreter to Christian, in order that he 
might know the true from the false guide in the 
way to the City of Immanuel. 

The next scene, which the Interpreter showed 
Christian, went, you may be sure, to his heart ; for 
it displayed the inward corruptions of the soul, and 
the different effects, first of the Law and afterwards 
of the Gospel upon them ; and Christian, it must 
be remembered, had not yet got rid of his burden of 
sin, and had in his mind in great freshness the 
terrors of Sinai in the way to Mr. Legality's house, 
and his distressing experience in the Slough of 
Despond, besides his deep convictions of sin and 
wrath in the City of Destruction. He had known 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 253 

most thoroughly what the Law could do with a bur- 
dened conscience ; he had but begun to know what 
grace could do to ease it. The Interpreter carried 
him into a larger parlor whereof the floor was thick 
with dust, because it had never been swept. So 
the moment a man began to sweep it, the dust flew 
about in such clouds that Christian was well nigh 
stifled ; but so soon as a damsel was called to 
sprinkle the room with water, then it was swept 
and cleansed easily. 

The sweeper was the Law, stirring up the cor- 
ruptions in the parlor of the heart ; trying to sweep 
them, but only stirring them up, and raising a suf- 
focating cloud in the atmosphere. This is the 
work of the Law in the conscience* to reveal sin, to 
make the sinner sensible of it ; and this is all that 
the Law can do * it can only convince and condemn, 
for we have broken every one of its precepts, and 
the more its light shines in upon the soul* the more 
manifest our iniquities become. If we strive to 
keep it and so to gain peace, we may keep it in some 
points outwardly, but inwardly we break it ; we are 
defiled in every part, and our very morality con- 
demns us, as not springing from the love of God. 
The voice of the law is, The soul that sinneth it 
shall die, and he that offendeth in one point is guilty 
of all ; and what a broom this is to introduce into 
the heart to sweep it of its sins, you may well judge ; 
every movement of it is as the besom of destruc- 
tion ; it is indeed condemnation and death perpetu- 
ally. The Law is holy, and just, and good ; but its 
very holiness and goodness, laid along side with 
our depravity, make the revelation within us ap- 



254 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

pear like the uncovering of hell ; it fills us with an- 
guish and terror in the sight of what we are, and 
what we deserve. 

Christian well knew this in his own deep experi- 
ence; for the burden of sin was on him still, and 
sorely did he feel it while the Interpreter was 
making this explanation ; and had it not been for 
his remembrance of the warning of the Man at the 
Gate, he would certainly have besought the Inter- 
preter to take off his burden. The Law could 
not take it off; he had tried that; and grace had 
not yet removed it, so he was forced to be quiet 
and to wait patiently. But when the Damsel came 
and sprinkled the floor and laid the dust, and then 
the parlour was swept so easily, there were the sweet 
influences of the Gospel imaged, there was divine 
grace distilling as the dew, there was the gentle 
voice of Christ hushing the storm ; there were the 
corruptions of the heart, which the Law had but 
roused into action, yielding under the power of 
Christ, and there was the soul made clean and fit 
for the King of Glory to inhabit. Indeed this was 
a most instructive emblem. Oh that my heart 
might be thus cleansed, thought Christian, and then 
I verily believe I could bear my burden with great 
ease to the end of my pilgrimage, but I have had 
enough of that fierce Sweeper, the Law. The Lord 
deliver me from his besom ! 

The next emblem was Passion and Patience, 
two little children, the very reverse in their cha- 
racters, one of whom would have every thing now, 
the other would quietly wait. So Passion had his 
desire and Christian looked and saw him with a 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 255 

bag of treasure exulting over Patience and laugh- 
ing him to scorn, but Patience sat still, and an- 
swered nothing. So Christian looked again, and 
behold Passion had lavished all his treasure in a 
moment, and now had nothing but rags. This was 
a vivid and striking emblem, and one which in its 
general meaning a child could understand. Pas- 
sion stands for the men of this world, Patience of 
that which is to come ; Passion for those who will 
have all their good things now, Patience for those 
who are willing with self-denial to wait for some- 
thing better ; Passion for those who are absorbed 
in temporal trifles, Patience for those whose hearts 
are fixed upon eternal realities ; Passion the things 
which are seen, and the impatient eagerness with 
which they are followed, Patience the things which 
are unseen, and the faith, humility, and deadness 
to the world exercised in order to enjoy them. Be- 
sides, Passion shows the scorn of Patience by pros- 
perous men of this world in their bravery, Patience 
shows the gentle forbearance and endurance, which 
the love of Christ, and the promise of eternal glory, 
do, by divine grace, enable the soul even of a per* 
secuted Christian to exercise. 

This beautiful passage is a good commentary on 
the seventy-third Psalm; it is good for those to 
read and meditate upon, who are at any time en- 
vious at the foolish, when they see the prosperity 
of the wicked ; and there are times when the best 
of men fall into such a vein of murmuring and 
repining; they become foolish and ignorant, and 
as a beast before God, losing all sight and sense 
of eternal realities for a season, when they get to 



256 CHRISTIAN AT THE 

admiring the ungodly, who prosper in the world, 
who increase in riches. Ah, let them remember 
how as a dream when one awaketh, so the trea- 
sures and enjoyments of Passion are gone, and 
there is left nothing but rags and wretchedness. 
And let them remember those three sweet verses, 
which contain the very material out of which so 
gentle, yet noble a creature as Patience was made, 
and the very fire that as a flame of blessedness 
before hand was burning in his heart, and making 
him care nothing at all for the braveries of Pas- 
sion ; " Thou shalt guide me with thy counsel, and 
afterward receive me to glory. Whom have I in 
heaven but thee, and there is none upon earth that 
I desire besides thee. My flesh and my heart fail- 
eth, but God is the strength of my heart, and my 
portion forever." 

It were well also to read along with this the ac- 
count of Dives and Lazarus, of which again this 
emblem of Passion and Patience is a perfect repre- 
sentation. Dives was Passion, who would have all 
his good things in this life, and even doubted whe- 
ther there was any life to come at all ; at any rate, 
he would not be such a melancholy fool as to wait 
for it. Lazarus was Patience, who could not only 
wait, saying within himself, By and by it will be all 
right, and the crown of gold will keep its bright- 
ness forever, but he could wait at the gate of the 
rich man full of sores, and yet singing and making 
melody in his heart unto the Lord, and thinking 
of the angels and of Abraham's bosom. And then 
the end, the eternal separation, the gulf of flame 
and the abode of glory! Son, said Abraham, 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. . 257 

remember that thou in thy life-time receivedst thy 
good things, and likewise Lazarus evil things ; 
and now, he is comforted, and thou art tormented. 
So the world goes ! Passion says, A bird in 
the hand is worth two in the bush ; give me good 
fortunes now, and you may have all your fine 
texts of Scripture, and all your glory in the world 
to come to yourself. Patience says, Wait a little, 
all is not gold that glitters, and a little that a right- 
eous man hath, is better than the riches of many 
wicked. Passion says, Father, give me the por- 
tion of goods that belongeth to me ; he will have 
them now, and he claims them as his right, and 
being indulged with them, away he goes and spends 
them to his own ruin ; and then well for him it is, 
if amidst his rags and wretchedness his heart 
turns again to his father's house, and by the 
infinite mercy of divine grace he comes back as a 
lamenting, penitent, heart-broken Prodigal. Ah, 
thought Christian to himself, I was Passion once, 
Passion in the City of Destruction ; and I should 
have been Passion still, Passion in rags and 
wretchedness, had not God had mercy on me. 
Now I will be Patience as long as I live. 

The next bright instructive vision that the Inter- 
preter showed Christian, is one that sprung directly 
from Bunyan's own course of painful and blessed 
experience, mingled together. The Dreamer now 
is looking back and musing on the wonderful 
discipline of Divine Grace in his heart, and he 
says within himself, How marvellously, amidst all 
my terrible temptations, did my Divine Saviour, 
when I saw him not, and feared I never should see 

33 



258 



CHRISTIAN AT THE 



him, maintain his blessed, precious work of mercy 
in my heart ! He has brought the blind by a way 
that they knew not ; but now, blessed be God, how 
sweetly do I see it ! When my spirit was over- 
whelmed within me, then thou knewest my path. 
" I saw in my dream," says Bunyan, " that the 
Interpreter took Christian by the hand, and led him 
into a place, where was a fire burning against a 
wall, and one standing by it, always casting much 
water upon it to quench it ; yet did the fire burn 
higher and hotter." You will remember the sar- 
castic dialogue of the Tempter, the devil, with 
Bunyan's soul, when he had him near the en- 
trance to the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and 
was torturing him with dreadful doubts and appre- 
hensions. I will cool you yet, said Satan, though 
I take seven years to do it ; you are very hot 
after mercy now, but you shall be cool enough by 
and by. And with what malignant wonder and 
disappointment must Satan have looked on to see 
all his efforts bootless, to see that the flame of love 
in Bunyan's heart was like the fire of guilt and de- 
spair in Satan's own conscience, unquenchable ; to 
see, amidst all the torrents of rain and hail, that he 
poured upon the soul of his apparently helpless 
victim, the fire of grace, to his utter desperation 
and astonishment, did only burn higher and clearer, 
and brighter ! Ah, the blind and guilty Fiend 
could not see the chariots and horsemen of heaven 
round about Bunyan ; he could not see the Lord 
Jesus Christ continually pouring the oil of divine 
grace into Bunyan's heart, of which the Inter- 
preter showed Christian the emblem in the man 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 259 

on the other side secretly but continually pouring 
oil from a vessel into the fire. 

So, said the Interpreter, by means of the oil of 
Christ's grace, notwithstanding what the devil can 
do, the souls of his people prove gracious still. 
And in that thou sawest that the man stood be- 
hind the wall to maintain the fire, this is to teach 
thee that it is hard for the tempted to see how r this 
work of grace is maintained in the soul. My grace 
is sufficient for thee, for my strength is made per- 
fect in weakness. Bunyan had had deep experience 
of the glory of this promise, for it was the passage 
of grace which did long strive with that of Esau, 
till at length the dreadful threatening grew r dim 
and vanished away, while the promise grew brighter 
and brighter, till it filled his whole soul with its 
glory ; till the Law had to give place to the 
Gospel, and Moses and Elias to leave Christ and 
his saints alone. Bunyan has put this sweet 
promise in a reference in the margin ; and here I 
may remark that as you pass along in the Pil- 
grim's Progress, if you will take the trouble to 
turn to your Bibles for references, you may see 
the very sources of the wisdom and inspiration of 
Banyan's genius, the very channels through which 
the River of the Water of Life flowed in so many 
thousand deep beautiful rills into these pages. 
The examination in such wise proves far more 
instructive. 

The next sight, which the Interpreter showed 
Christian, is in many respects the most animating 
and ravishing passage to be found in all the Pil- 
grim's Progress. It set Christian's own heart on 



260 CHRISTIAN AT THE 

fire to run forward on his journey. Those who 
have read this book in early childhood, can well 
remember the powerful effect which this picture 
had upon the imagination. The Interpreter took 
Christian by the hand, and led him into a pleasant 
place, where was built a stately palace, beautiful 
to behold ; at the sight of which Christian was 
greatly delighted ; he saw also upon the top 
thereof certain persons walking, who were clothed 
all in gold. So the Interpreter took Christian, 
and led him up towards the door of the palace ; and 
behold, at the door stood a great company of men, 
as desirous to go in, but durst not. There also sat 
a man at a little distance from the door, at a table- 
side, with a book and his ink-horn before him, to 
take the names of them that should enter therein; 
he saw also that in the door-way stood many men 
in armour to keep it, being resolved to do to 
the men that would enter, what hurt and mis^ 
chief they could. Now was Christian somewhat 
in amaze : at last, when every man started back 
for fear of the armed men, Christian saw a man of 
a very stout countenance come up to the man that 
sat there to write, saying, set down my name, sir ; 
the which when he had done, he saw the man draw 
his sword, and put a helmet upon his head, and 
rnsh towards the door upon the armed men, who, 
laid upon him with deadly force ; but the man, not 
at all discouraged, fell to cutting and hacking 
most fiercely. So, after he had received and 
given many wounds to those who attempted to 
keep him out, he cut his way through them all, and 
pressed forward into the palace ; at which there 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 261 

was a pleasant voice heard from those that were 
within, even of those that walked upon the top 
of the palace, saying, 

Come in, Come in, 
Eternal glory thou shalt win ! 

So he went in, and was clothed with such gar- 
ments as they. Then Christian smiled and said, I 
think verily I know the meaning of this. 

Verily thou didst, noble Christian ! And who 
is there that does not know the meaning of it, 
and what heart^so cold as not to be ravished by it! 
Yea, we should think that this passage alone 
might set any man out on this pilgrimage, might 
bring many a careless traveller up to the gate of 
this glorious palace to say, Set down my name, 
sir ! How foil of instruction is this passage ! 
What mingled encouragement and warning did 
it convey to Christian's mind to prepare him for 
the many trials before him. It was necessary 
that the Holy Spirit should show him in some 
measure what he would have to encounter, should 
make him feel that if he gained heaven, it must 
be by a great conflict and a great victory. Mr. 
Worldly Wiseman had predicted some of the 
dangers he was to meet with ; but Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman could have no conception of the ex- 
ceeding weight of glory that was to follow ; but 
here the vision of the glory follows so close upon 
the sight of the conflict, that the conflict even adds 
to its charms, and makes it a thousand times the 
more exciting. Here is the sentence, "Through 
much tribulation," but here is also " the Kingdom 



262 CHRISTIAN AT THE 

of Heaven ;" and who so pitiful as not to be willing 
to undergo the tribulation, to encounter the hazard, 
to run the gauntlet of these armed men against him, 
for the glory of that kingdom. 

Yea, saith Christian, verily I think I can un- 
derstand this. But here you w 7 ill remark how 
great a multitude stood round the gate of this pa- 
lace, fearing, yet desiring — desiring, yet fearing, to 
enter in. And you see that Christian found, while 
he was there, only one among them, of like spirit 
with himself, only one who would come up and say, 
Set down my name, sir. Ah, what a multitude 
there are, who have some faint desires after 
heaven, and half a mind, a thousand times, to set 
out in the way thither, but who never do it, who 
always shrink back. These men around the gate 
were so many Pliables, who were sure to go back 
to the City of Destruction ; and we would say to 
those many persons in just their situation, unless 
you come to a fixed resolution, unless you step 
quickly and boldly to the gate, with your heart 
on fire, and say, Set down my name, sir, in a 
tone that shall make Christian rejoice, and the 
armed men tremble, you are not likely ever to fight 
your way into this palace, or ever to be walking with 
those upon its top in glory. 

As for Christian, his whole heart went with the 
man of stout countenance, and went with every blow 
he gave, and he was so ravished with his courage 
and with the pleasant voice and the glory, that as 
soon as that sight was done with, he was for start- 
ing at once upon his journey. Now, said Christian, 
let me go hence. How often does the young con- 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 263 

vert, in his moments of triumph, think he has got 
instruction enough, and grace enough, to last him 
all the way of his pilgrimage. But he needs, as I 
said, a great many sights, and much more heavenly 
discipline in the House of the Interpreter, or his 
boasted courage will fail by the way. Christian 
thought he had received an impulse, under which 
his soul would shoot forward like an arrow, a gale 
of the Spirit filling his sails, that would carry his 
bark swiftly through all tempests to heaven ; he 
felt indeed as if he were in heaven beforehand, he 
did so long to be there ; under this ravishing sight 
he scarcely felt the weight of his burden, and not a 
word was said to the Interpreter about removing it. 
But Christian needs more instruction still ; and as 
these bright colors are apt to fade from the picture, 
or grow unnoticed, unless they be set off and 
heightened, and made more important by some 
dark shades besides them, the Interpreter did now, 
with heavenly skill, direct Christian's attention to a 
vision terribly instructive, which would both be 
fixed itself in his remembrance, and would make the 
bright vision more precious to him. Stay, said 
the Interpreter, till I have showed thee a little 
more, and after that thou shalt go on thy way. 
When the Holy Spirit undertakes to illuminate and 
sanctify the soul, he will do it thoroughly ; he will 
not dismiss a soldier to his work without his 
armor. Nor must the Christian be impatient 
of instruction, or of the time during which he 
seems to be detained in learning; for it is very 
precious to be thus in the House of the Inter- 
preter, under the teachings of the Holy Spirit ; and 



264 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

he may be sure that all he can gain, he will 
need. Warnings he needs, and solemn ones. 

So the Interpreter took Christian by the hand 
again, and led him into a very dark room, where 
there sat a man in an iron cage. Now the man to 
look on seemed very sad : he sat with his eyes 
looking down to the ground, his hands folded 
together, and he sighed as if he would break his 
heart. Then said Christian, What means this 1 
At which the Interpreter bid him talk with the 
man. Then said Christian to the man, What art 
thou 1 Christian's heart trembled as he put this 
question, and he said within himself, Alas, if 
I should ever be in this condition ! The man 
answered, I am what I was not once. Y/hat wast 
thou once ? said Christian. The man said, I was 
once a fair and flourishing professor, both in mine 
own eyes, and also in the eyes of others. I was 
also, as I thought, fair for the Celestial City, and 
had even joy at the thoughts that I should get 
thither. Well, said Christian, but what art thou 
now 1 I am now a Man of Despair, and am 
shut up in it, as in this iron cage. I cannot get 
out ; O now I cannot. But how earnest thou 
into this condition 1 said Christian. I left oif to 
watch and be sober ; I laid the reins upon the 
neck of my lusts : I sinned against the light of 
the Word, and the goodness of God ; I have 
grieved the Spirit, and he is gone ; I tempted the 
devil, and he is come to me ; I have provoked 
God to anger, and he has left me ; I have so 
hardened my heart, that I cannot repent. 

Then said Christian to the Interpreter, But are 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 265 

there no hopes for such a man as this 1 It was 
a dreadful sight to Christian, as it must be to us 
all ; for what happened to this man may happen to 
any man, who leaves off to be sober and to watch 
unto prayer. It made Christian weep and tremble 
to see the deep misery of this man. Bat you will 
mark that the Interpreter does not give any answer 
to Christian, does not tell him whether there is yet 
hope or not, but refers him to the man himself 
for answer. Bunyan evidently did not mean to 
set it down as the judgment of the Holy Spirit 
that such an one as this was past hope ; and doubt- 
less men have conceived themselves in this con- 
dition, for whom there was hope, and the door of 
whose cage has afterwards been opened, and they 
have come out. There may be a spiritual gloom, 
amounting, as it seems to the soul under it, to 
actual despair, from which there is at length a 
blessed deliverance. David was sometimes in 
prison in this way, and on account of his sins. 
Bring my soul out of prison, he cries; and in the 
eighty-eighth Psalm you have the statement of a 
case almost as bad as this of the Man in the Cage 
of Despair. The Poet Cowper was thus in prison 
much of his time ; but in his case it was a mind of 
exquisite sensibility, thrown from its balance, and 
really insane in the belief of his being a lost soul. 
There are doubtless, other causes of spiritual 
gloom besides sin, but unbelief and sin are the 
ordinary causes. Bunyan himself was some- 
times in this gloomy state, without a ray of com- 
fort, but never in such a state that he could not 

pray for mercy. Christian, when he fell into the 
34 



266 CHRISTIAN m THE 

dungeon of Giant Despair's Castle, was in this 
condition ; and he must then have remembered this 
picture of the man in the iron cage with fearful 
vividness and keenness. The full sight and sense 
of any man's sins, without the sight and sense 
of a Saviour's mercy at the same time, would be 
sufficient to cast the soul at any time into utter 
despair ; and we are inclined to think that Bunyan 
had in his memory, at the time of writing this de- 
scription, that book, which had so powerful an 
effect once upon his own mind, the despairing 
death of Francis Spira, the apostate, and espe- 
cially that sentence, Man knows the beginning of 
sin, but who can bound the issues thereof! And 
Bunyan intended not to represent this man as 
actually beyond the reach of mercy, but to show 
the dreadful consequences of departing from God, 
and of being abandoned of him to the misery of 
unbelief and despair. 

So Christian, as the Interpreter bade him, ac- 
costed the man. Is there no hope, said he, but 
you must be kept in the Iron Cage of Despair 1 
No, none at all, said the man. Why, said Chris- 
tian, the Son of the Blessed is very merciful. Then 
said the man, I have crucified him to myself afresh; 
I have despised his person ; I have despised his 
righteousness ; I have counted his blood an un- 
holy thing ; I have done despite to the Spirit of 
Grace ; therefore I shut myself out of all the pro- 
mises ; and there now remains to me nothing but 
threatenings, dreadful threatenings, faithful threat- 
enings, of certain judgments and fiery indignation, 
which shall devour me as an adversary. 



HOUSE OF THE J INTERPRETER. 267 

For what did you bring yourself into this condi- 
tion ? asked Christian. For the lusts, pleasures, 
and profits of this world, in the enjoyment of 
which I did then promise myself much delight ; but 
now every one of those things also bite me, and 
gnaw me like a burning worm. 

But canst thou not now repent and turn? asked 
Christian. The man persevered in his gloomy 
awful answer. It is indeed, a picture to the life, 
of a soul in incurable despair. God hath denied 
me repentance. His Word gives me no encou- 
ragement to believe. Yea, himself hath shut me 
up in this iron cage, nor can all the men in the 
world let me out. O Eernity ! Eternity ! How 
shall I grapple with the misery that I must meet 
with in eternity ! 

Then said the Interpreter to Christian, Let this 
man's misery be remembered by thee, and be an 
everlasting caution to thee. Well, said Christian, 
this is fearful ! God help me to watch and be 
sober, and to pray that I may shun the cause of this 
man's misery. This was indeed a fearful lesson. 
The sight of this man in the iron cage was likely 
to remain with Christian at least as long as the 
preceding sight of the venturous man cutting his 
way to eternal glory. And the one sight is judged 
as important by the holy Spirit as the other. This, 
after all, is nothing more than the reality must be, 
supposing a soul in the case described by Paul, 
For it is impossible for those once enlightened, &c, 
if they shall fall away, to renew them again unto 
repentance. Wo unto them, says God, when I 
depart from them. There is no stoicism or phi- 



268 CHRISTIAN AT THE 

losophy can stand against God's departure. There 
is no harm can happen to a man, who has God for 
his friend ; but there is no good can happen to a 
man abandoned of God. When he giveth quiet- 
ness, who then can make trouble 1 and when he 
hideth his face, who then can behold him ! whe- 
ther it be done against a nation or against a man 
only. 

Sir, said Christian, is it not time for me to be on 
my way now I The Interpreter would have him 
tarry to see one thing more. So he took him by 
the hand, and led him into a chamber, where there 
was one rising out of bed ; and as he put on his 
raiment he shook and trembled. This night, said 
he, as I was in my sleep, I dreamed, and behold the 
heavens grew exceeding black ; also, it thundered 
and lightened in most fearful wise, that it put me 
into an agony. So I looked up in my dream, and 
saw the clouds rack at an unusual rate ; upon 
which I heard a great sound of a trumpet, and saw 
also a man sitting upon a cloud, attended with ten 
thousands of heaven. They were all in flaming 
fire ; also, the heavens were on a burning flame. 
I heard then a great voice, saying, " Arise, ye 
dead, and come to judgment !" and with that the 
rocks rent, the graves opened, and the dead that 
were therein came forth, some of them were ex- 
ceeding glad, and looked upward; and some 
sought to hide themselves under the mountains. 
Then I saw the Man that sat upon the cloud 
open the book, and bid the world draw near; yet, 
there was, by reason of a fierce flame which issued 
out, and came before him, a convenient distance 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 269 

betwixt him and them, as betwixt the judge and 
the prisoners at the bar. I heard it also proclaimed 
to them that attended on the Man that sat on the 
cloud, " Gather together the tares, the chaff, and 
stubble, and cast them into the burning lake ;" 
and with that the bottomless pit opened just 
whereabout I stood ; out of the mouth of which 
there came, in an abundant manner, smoke and 
coals of fire, with hideous noises. It was also 
said to the same persons, " Gather my wheat into 
the garner." And with that I saw many catched 
up and carried away into the clouds ; but I was 
left behind. I also sought to hide myself, but I 
could not ; for the Man that sat upon the cloud 
still kept his eye upon me. My sins also came into 
my mind, and my conscience did accuse me on 
every side* 

In this terrific dream, what terrified the Dreamer 
w 7 as the thought that the Day of Judgment had 
come* and that he was not ready for it ; and 
also that the angels gathered up some for glory 
close by his side, but left him ; and also that the 
pit of hell there opened where he stood ; while con- 
science roused up and tormented him, and the 
Judge, with indignation in his countenance, always 
had his eye upon him. 

This dream, so sublimely told, with such severe 
faithfulness to Scripture, there being no image 
in it but such as you may find in the Bible, was 
the recurrence of Bunyan's own early experience, 
chastened by Divine Truth. One of Bunyan's 
biographers has given us the record of some of 
his actual early dreams in such language as carries 



270 CHRISTIAN AT THE 

the stamp of Bunyan's own imagination upon it, 
and shows that the imagery in the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress was the combination anew, with a ripened art 
and wisdom, of realities which his own soul had 
experienced. Once he dreamed he saw the face 
of the heavens as it were all on fire, the firma- 
ment crackling and shivering as it were with 
the noise of mighty thunders, and an archangel 
flew in the midst of heaven, sounding a trumpet, 
and a glorious throne was seated on the east, 
whereon sat one in brightness like the morning star, 
upon which he, thinking it was the end of the 
world, fell upon his knees, and with uplifted hands 
towards heaven, cried, O Lord God, have mercy 
upon me ! What shall I do 1 the day of judgment 
is come, and I am not prepared ! Then he imme- 
diately heard a voice behind him, exceeding loud, 
saying, Repent. Whereupon he awoke, and 
found it was a dream. Another time he dreamed 
that he was in a pleasant place, jovial and rioting, 
banqueting and feasting his senses, when imme- 
diately a mighty earthquake rent the earth, and 
made a wide gape, out of which came bloody 
flames, and the figures of men tossed up in globes 
of fire, and falling down again with horrible cries, 
shrieks and execrations, while some devils that 
were mingled with them laughed aloud at their 
torments ; and whilst he stood trembling at this 
sight, he thought the earth sank under him, and a 
circle of flame enclosed him ; but when he fancied 
he was just at the point to perish, one in white 
shining raiment descended, and plucked him out 
of that dreadful place, while the devils cried after 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 271 

him to be left with them, to take the just punish- 
ment his sins had desired ; yet he escaped the 
danger, and leaped for joy, when he awoke, and 
found it was a dream. 

Now in these dreams of Bunyan's own soul you 
may see clearly the materials, afterwards put more 
visibly into the symmetrical mould of Scripture 
imagery, of that grand and awful Dream of the 
Judgment, which the Man related to Christian in 
the House of the Interpreter. Almost all men have 
at times passed through something of the same 
experience ; for conscience is often busy in the 
night-time, when the external business of the day 
prevented her work and claims from being attended 
to. We go about the world in the day time, we see 
pleasant companions, we are absorbed in earthly 
schemes, the things of sense are around us, the 
world is as bright as a rainbow, and it bears for 
us no marks or predictions of the judgment, or 
of our sins, and it holds no conversation with us on 
those subjects, and conscience is retired, as it were, 
within a far inner circle of the soul. But when it 
comes night, and the streets are empty, and the 
lights are out, and the business and dancing and 
gayety are over, and the pall of sleep is drawn 
over the senses, and reason and the will are no 
longer on the watch, then conscience comes out so- 
lemnly, and walks about in the silent chambers of 
the soul, and makes her survey and her comments, 
and sometimes sits down and sternly reads the 
record of a life that the waking man would never 
look into, and the catalogue of crimes that are ga- 
thering for the judgment. And as conscience 



272 CHRISTIAN AT THE 

reads, and reads aloud, and soliloquizes, you may- 
hear the still deep echo of her voice reverbera- 
ted through the soul's most secret unveiled re- 
cesses. Imagination walks tremblingly behind 
her, and now they two alone pass though the open 
gate of the Scriptures into the future and eternal 
world ; for thither all things in man's being na- 
turally and irresistibly tend ; and there, as con- 
science is still dwelling upon sin, imagination draws 
the judgment, and the soul is presented at the bar 
of God, and the eye of the Judge is on it, and a 
hand of fire writes, as on the wall of the universe, 
Thou art weighed in the balances and found want^ 
ing ! Then, whatever sinful thoughts or passions, 
words or deeds, the conscience enumerates and 
dwells upon, the imagination with prophetic truth 
fills eternity with corresponding shapes of evil. Our 
dreams sometimes reveal our character, our sins, 
our destinies, far more clearly than our waking 
thoughts; for whereas by day the energies of our 
being are turned into artificial channels, by night 
our thoughts follow the bent that is most natural to 
them ; and as man is both an immortal and a sinful 
being, the consequences both of his immortality and 
his sinfulness will sometimes be made to stand out 
in overpowering light, when the busy pursuits of day 
and of the world are not able to turn the soul from 
wandering towards eternity. 

A morning is coming, when we shall all awake out 
of the sleep of this world, but the Dream of the Judg- 
ment will then be no longer a dream. The friendly 
warning of the dream will have passed forever, to 
give place to the reality. The thrones will be set, 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 273 

the dead will be raised, and we shall be judged; the 
Great White Throne, and Him that sitteth thereon, 
and all nations gathered before him ! 

Oh to be ready, ready for that Day ! 

Who would not give earth's fairest toys away ! 

So thought Christian, when in mingled hope and 
fear on account of what he had seen, he began to 
gird up his loins, and to address himself to his 
journey. The Comforter be always with thee, 
said the Interpreter, to guide thee in the way 
that leads to the city ! So he went musing on 
his way, grateful to the good Interpreter, medita- 
ting on what he had seen, drawing out the les- 
sons, and soliloquizing over them, and praying for 
Divine Grace to make them profitable. In truth, 
the things which he had seen were some of the 
most precious fruits of Bunyan's sanctified genius 
and deep religious experience. Whoever has read 
Bunyan's Divine Emblems for Youth, will see at once 
the same hand that placed these varieties for his Pil- 
grim's instruction in the House of the Interpreter. 
Bunyan might have added to them in verses 
wrought with the art of a true poet, had it pleased 
him so to exercise his skill. 

It is difficult to overstate the importance for 
the mind in childhood of a book that contains 
such pictures at once so alluring, so solemn and 
instructive. We speak from experience, and from 
what we have heard others describe of its effect upon 
their minds in early youth, when we suggest the 
importance of children early reading the Pilgrim's 
Progress, It never seems so beautiful, so fasci- 

35 



274 CHRISTIAN AT THE 

nating a book, to those who read it first in later 
life, as to those who, having read it in childhood, 
when its power over the imagination is unbounded, 
read it afterwards with a grave perception and un- 
derstanding of its meaning. It becomes a series of 
holy pictures engraven on the soul in its early, 
simple, childlike state, and though these pictures 
may be afterwards covered with sin, yet some time 
or other their covering may be swept off, and then 
out shine the pictures, in all their freshness and 
beauty. And what is true of the Pilgrim's Progress 
is much more true of the Bible. Where such early 
impressions are made upon the mind, it would seem 
as if Satan works hard to destroy them ; he takes 
the tablet, and rubs out the inscription, just as the 
monks of old used to erase the classics, and 
write over them on the same parchment their 
own absurd legends ; but God can restore the 
original inscriptions, and can utterly efface the 
writing of the Wicked One. And sometimes the 
original Builder of the mind is pleased to write his 
own name so deep there, that though it may be 
covered with depravity, in which Satan afterwards 
engraves his, and thinks it is written in the solid 
rock, yet God has a previous writing, and the Holy 
Spirit, in a season of trouble and conviction upon 
the sinner, can break away that covering of depra- 
vity, and Satan's name along with it, and there 
shall be God's name shining, and the whole temple 
of the mind shall be God's Living Temple. See 
that you write God's name upon your children's 
minds ; and in order to do this, you must use the 
graving tools, which God himself has given you, 



HOUSE OF THE INTERPRETER. 275 

the diamond pen of the Word of God, sharper 
to write with, and to cut with, than any two-edged 
sword, and always successful, when used with 
faith and prayer. 

Refreshed and instructed in the House of the 
Interpreter, Christian sets forward on his journey. 
His burden is still wearisome, and some of the 
sights which he has seen, tend to make him feel 
it more sensibly, and to long for deliverance. 
Though the highway was fenced in on either 
side with the wall of Salvation, yet, as the way 
was ascending. Christian ran with great difficulty, 
because of the load on his back. But now he 
was near his deliverance, which indeed the in- 
structions of the Holy Spirit had prepared him to 
experience and receive as a reality, a lasting* com- 
manding reality, and not a mistaken, transitory, 
superficial joy. There is not a more important 
lesson taught in this book, than that growth in 
grace is not to be measured by sensible comfort, 
that joy is not to be sought as a test or proof of 
grace, and that a person may be in Christ, and yet 
a deep sense of the burden of sin may long remain 
upon the soul. The teachings of the Holy Spirit 
are needed, and new discoveries of the plan of sal- 
vation through Christ, and only in proportion as 
the soul sees clearly Christ and his Cross, and is 
filled and absorbed with the Saviour, does the 
burden of sin disappear, and the happiness of the 
soul become deep and lasting. All the direct 
efforts of Christian to get rid of his burden were 
of no avail, nor was it till he had the fullest 
view of the Cross, not till that salvation eom- 



276 CHRISTIAN AT THE HOUSE, &C. 

pletely filled his soul, that the burden fell from 
him. He was not seeking to be rid of it when 
he lost sight of it ; no, he was coming up to the 
cross and the sepulchre, his attention was occu- 
pied with Christ, his sufferings, his death, his 
atoning sacrifice for sinners, and as he ran and 
gazed, and saw these things more clearly, and 
came at length quite to the foot of the cross, then 
his burden fell from him while he was gazing, ad- 
miring and loving, and rolled quite into the 
mouth of the sepulchre, so that he saw it no more. 
And very much surprised was he that the sight 
of the cross should thus ease him of his burden. 
It made him glad and lightsome, and he ex- 
claimed with a merry heart, He hath given me 
rest by his sorrow, and life by his death. And so, 
as he stood and wondered, he wept and wept 
again for gratitude, sorrow and joy. And now 
came to him the Three Shining Ones, as he stood 
looking and weeping, and they all together saluted 
him, Peace be to thee. The first said to him, 
Thy sins be forgiven thee. The second stripped 
him of his rags, and clothed him with change of 
raiment. The third also set a mark on his fore- 
head and gave him a roll with a seal upon it, 
which he bid him look to as he ran, and that he 
should give it in at the Celestial Gate ; so they 
went their way. Then Christian gave three leaps 
for joy, and went on singing. 



CHRISTIAN 

ON THE 

HILL DIFFICULTY 



Happiness of Christian with his roll. — His efforts to save others. — Simple, Sloth and 
Presumption. — Christian's knowledge of character. — Formalist and Hypocrisy. — 
Christian climbing the Hill. — The sleep in the arbor, and the loss of his roll. — 
Christian weeping and searching for it. — His thankfulness at finding it. 

We left Christian light of heart, and singing 
for joy of his deliverance from his burden. How 
lightly did he now step forward, with what pleasant 
thoughts in his soul, with what precious views of 
the cross and of the way of salvation ! Now it 
seemed to him that he should never tire. He 
thought of that sweet Psalm, When the Lord 
turned again the captivity of Zion, we were like 
them that dream. Sometimes he could scarcely 
persuade himself that it was a reality ; he was 
almost afraid it was a dream. But then, there 
was his roll that had been given him, and the new 
dress in which the Shining Ones had arrayed him, 
and his heart was full of gratitude and love. He 
thought " he could have spoken to the very crows 
that sat upon the ploughed land by the way-side," 
to have told them of his joy, and of the precious- 
ness of his Saviour, if they could have understood 

36 



278 CHRISTIAN ON THE 

it. His heart was like the blind man's restored to 
sight, and just as simple and unaffected. 

Now methinks I hear him praising, 

Publishing to all around, 
Friends, is not my case amazing ? 

What a Saviour I have found ! 

Yes, and now Christian desires to save others. 
The joy in his soul was no transitory sympathy or 
selfish hope, that would subside into indolence. 
It led him to set himself at work at once to win 
others to Christ. This is very striking. Now he 
would neglect no opportunity of doing good, and 
he did not say, when he saw some ready to perish, 
I am but a young Christian, but just now converted, 
and must wait till I have more experience, before I 
try to persuade others. Not at all. But the very 
first opportunity Christian had after his release 
from his burden, he faithfully employed it. As 
he went on, singing and making melody in his 
heart unto the Lord, he came to a wide level 
place, where he saw, a little out of the way, three 
men fast asleep, with fetters on their heels. Their 
names were Simple, Sioth, and Presumption. The 
first thing Christian did was to go to them and 
endeavor to awake them, which he thought cer- 
tainly he might easily do, for their danger was 
clear to him, though they themselves did not seem 
to see it. So he cried out to them to awake, 
telling them that they might as well sleep on the top 
of a mast, for that the Dead Sea was under them, a 
gulf without a bottom. Awake, said he, and come 
away, or you will perish forever. He furthermore 
told them that if they were but willing, he would 



HILL DIFFICULTY. 279 

help them oft' with their irons, but they manifested 
no anxiety. He told them that if he that goeth 
about as a roaring lion came by, they would cer- 
tainly become a prey to his teeth. In fine, he used 
all proper and likely means to wake them up ; and 
they were at length so far roused as to listen to 
him, and answer him. 

Simple said, I see no danger. That was the 
voice of one-third part of the world in their sins. 
Tell them they are sleeping on the brink of per- 
dition, and they say, We see no danger. Sloth 
said, Yet a little more sleep. That was the 
voice of another third part of the world. A little 
longer indulgence in sin is pleaded for, a little 
more quiet ease and indifference ; wait till we 
have a more convenient season ; a little more fold- 
ing of the hands to sleep ! Presumption said, 
Every vat must stand on its own bottom. There 
outspoke at least another third part of the world in 
their sins. Take care of your interests, and I 
will take care of mine. You need not trouble 
yourself about my salvation. I am not at all 
concerned but that all will go well, and I am ready 
to take my chance. All these classes of men 
Christians have to encounter in their efforts to 
awaken the sinner and bring him to repentance; 
so Christian was earnest and faithful, but all his 
efforts were of no avail. These persons laid them- 
selves down to sleep again, and Christian went 
sorrowfully on his way, being sad to think of the 
danger they were in, and their insensibility to it* 
and their utter indifference as to the help proffered 
them to get them out of it. 



280 CHRISTIAN ON THE 

But. now there met him persons of a different 
sort ; for behold two men came tumbling over the 
wall, on the left hand of the narrow way ; and they 
made up apace to him. The name of the one was 
Formalist, and the name of the other Hypocrisy. 
It looked very suspicious to see them tumbling 
over the wall ; so Christian asked at once where 
they came from, and whither they were going. 
Their answer was very curious. We were born 
in the land of Vainglory, and are going for praise 
to Mount Zion. Christian asked them why they 
did not come in at the gate, for that they who came 
not in by the door, but did climb up some other 
way, were thieves and robbers. They told him 
that in their country of Vainglory, that gate was 
considered too far round about, so that it was their 
custom to make a short cut, and get over the wall. 
Now you will remark that Bunyan had met these 
characters himself, and was well acquainted with 
them. He is here painting from real life ; indeed 
in every part of the Pilgrim's Progress he had 
but to look back through the perspective of the 
way he had himself been travelling, and its 
characters started into life, thronging the path 
with such number and vividness, that the diffi- 
culty was not to find portraits, but to make choice 
of his materials. He had also only to look into 
his own soul, with the wonderful clearness and 
accuracy with which he remembered every part of 
his experience, and there he found within his own 
past self, before he became a Christian, the por- 
traiture of many a character introduced in his 
pages ; the portraitures of just such characters as 



HILL DIFFICULTY. 281 

he would himself have become, had he stopped 
where they did ; had he stopped at the points, 
where he sketched and painted these developments 
of classes. 

This is, in truth, an illustration of the meaning of 
that passage, Evil men understand not judgment, 
but they that seek the Lord understand all things. 
And also of that in 1 Cor. ii. 15. We see plainly 
that as a clear-sighted Christian looks back upon 
his own experience, he sees himself in many 
aspects, and through the prism of his own na- 
ture, he sees a thousand others; he sees, through 
and through, the motives, thoughts, feelings, veils 
and hiding-places of every possible variety of the 
children of this world, because he has been one of 
them. He sees some stopping with their charac- 
ters in perfection at one stage of his own ex- 
perience, and some at other stages ; some more 
advanced towards the point where he himself really 
set out to be a Christian, and some less ; but many 
he sees, through the perfect knowledge he has of 
his own past refuges of lies, evidently trusting in 
the same refuges; refuges where he himself would 
have stopped and died as a pretended Christian, 
had not God had mercy on him. 

On the other hand, a man of the world, a 
wicked man, an unconverted man, cannot see be- 
yond the line of his own experience ; the things 
of the Christian are hidden from him, for he has 
never gone into them ; it is a world unknown, a 
world hidden by a veil that he has never lifted, 
a region of blessedness, knowledge and glory, 
where his feet have never wandered ; a region of 



282 CHRISTIAN ON THE 

sweet fields, and living streams and vast prospects, 
of which he knows nothing, and can conceive 
nothing. It is all like the unseen future to him. 
But the Christian, you will perceive, is looking 
back ; experience illumines the path that has 
been passed over, and the Christian sees that path 
clearly, and that path embraces all the world in it, 
just so far as it is the broad way, in which all 
characters in the world are travelling. So he 
which is spiritual judgeth all things, but he him- 
self is judged of no man. So, in looking back, 
as Bunyan did, he says, Do you see such and 
such an one, travelling at such a pace, with 
such professions and conversations 1 A few 
years ago, I was just such a person ; I know 
him perfectly. Do you see that thief going to 
prison, that murderer going to execution ? Now 
but for the grace of God I was travelling the 
same way. But for the grace of God there goes 
John Bradford. So Bunyan said of himself, in 
describing these two fellows, Formalist and Hypo- 
crisy, But for the grace of God there goes John 
Bunyan. Nay, in describing these characters, 
Bunyan was just cutting out two of the pictures 
of his own unconverted state, to insert them into 
this heavenly Mosaic of his Pilgrim's Progress. 

For, in point of fact, he had been himself both 
Formalist and Hypocrisy ; he had acted both these 
parts in his unconverted state ; and, if he had 
stopped there, he had lived and died a formalist 
and a hypocrite. I do not mean that Bunyan ever 
had in his character the elements of such mean- 
ness, as would take to itself deliberately the cloak 



HILL DIFFICULTY. 283 

of religion to cover, conceal and practice its wick- 
edness ; that is the extreme of hypocrisy, and 
marks the most abandoned of all villains. But 
formalism itself is hypocrisy, and where a man 
does only deceive himself, by the concealment 
from himself of his own true character as a sinner, 
and by trusting in some other refuge than Christ, 
that man is a hypocrite, for he pretends to be a 
great deal better than he is ; nay, he pretends to 
have goodness enough for his salvation, without 
coming in by the door, when God knows it is all 
rottenness and a lie. 

Now you will remember there was a time when 
Bunyan w r as a thorough going Churchman, without 
one particle of religion in his soul. He would go 
to church in the morning, and worship the minis- 
ter's robes, and the altar, and in the afternoon he 
would make the air ring with his merriment at the 
game of Cat. At this time, you will remember, 
he neither cared nor knew whether there were any 
Saviour or not ; the complete sum of his religion 
was Form, nor did he even attempt to go any far- 
ther. So, certainly, here was the Formalist in 
perfection. At another time, he was going to 
heaven by an external reformation, and thought he 
pleased God as well as any man in England. But 
he declared that every thing he either did or said, 
was done solely out of regard to human applause ; 
for he was filled with delight to hear his neighbors 
speak so well of him. Here again, certainly, was 
the hypocrite in perfection. So that that answer, 
which Formalist and Hypocrite made to Christian, 
Bunyan wrote down out of his old, unconverted, 



284 CHRISTIAN ON THE 

vainglorious heart : We come from the land of 
Vainglory, and are going for praise to Mount Zion. 

The right way by the gate, the way by Christ 
and his righteousness, was deemed too far. But, 
said Christian, will it not be counted a trespass 
against the Lord of the City whither we are bound, 
thus to violate his revealed will I Christian is al- 
ways for Scripture. But they told him that they had 
plenty of examples for the way they came in, and 
testimony for more than a thousand years ; yea, 
the antiquity of the custom was such that every 
impartial judge would admit it as a thing legal. 
The fathers would doubtless be brought to justify 
it, and all antiquity was in its favor ; and when 
such multitudes had been justified by works for 
more than a thousand years, they would have been 
fools indeed, seeing that in the land of Vainglory 
there was plenty of that commodity, works done to 
be seen of men, if they should trouble themselves 
about faith and the gate. Besides, if we are in, 
we are in, said they. Thou art only in, who didst 
come by the gate ; and we are also in, who came 
over the wall ; so there is no difference. 

Now here is depicted to the life that pretended 
liberality which you so often hear in men's con- 
versation. All persuasions, it says, are right, and 
we are all travelling one way ; they that reject 
eternal punishment, and they that believe in it, 
they that deny the atonement, and they that re- 
cieve it ; they will all get to heaven at last. Ah, 
but, said Christian, there is a Rule, and I walk 
by it, the Rule of my Master ; but you walk by the 
rude working of your own fancies. You are 



HILL DIFFICULTY. 285 

thieves and robbers, by the Lord's own descrip- 
tion ; and as you come in by yourselves, without 
the Lord's direction, you will also go out by your- 
selves, without the Lord's mercy. 

This was a plainness, honesty and simplicity, 
characteristic of Christian. But the men told him 
to take care of himself, and they would take care 
of themselves ; and as to laws and ordinances 
they should keep them as conscientiously as he ; and 
as to all his pretence of inward experience, the 
new birth, repentance and faith, and all that, it 
might do for such a ragged creature as he had 
been. All the neighbors knew that he had been 
a worthless wretch, and it was well indeed that he 
had got such a coat to cover his nakedness ; but 
they had always gone well dressed, and having 
never been so bad as he was, needed not so great 
a change ; their laws and ordinances would save 
them. So Christian told them that this inward 
experience, this regeneration by the Holy Spirit, 
this faith in Christ alone as an atoning Saviour, 
and this evidence of that Saviour's mercy in a 
renewed heart and life, were as absolutely neces- 
sary for them, as for him, and that if they had come 
in at the gate, they would certainly have had 
these things also ; and that when they came to the 
Celestial Gate, they would be shut out without 
them. He told them moreover that the Lord of 
the place had given him that coat which was on 
his back, and not any of his neighbors ; and that 
he did indeed give it to him to hide his nakedness, 
for that before he had indeed been a poor, misera- 
ble, ragged, guilty sinner ; but now the Lord Jesus 
87 



286 CHRISTIAN ON THE 

had given him for his garment his own wisdom, 
righteousness, sanctification and redemption, and 
had thus sealed him by his grace in such a manner, 
that he would know him well when he came to give 
in his roll at the Celestial Gate. For all this, the 
men cared nothing at all, but looked at each other 
and laughed ; it was so ridiculous to them to hear 
Christian talking of a new birth, and of grace and 
faith, and the love of the Saviour. All that cant 
may do very well for a conventicle, said they, but 
we abide by respectable antiquity and the forms of 
our church. So they all went on, and Christian 
communed with himself, seeing that they both 
laughed at him, and could not understand him. 
They thought he was a harmless mystic, probably 
weak in his mind, and very illiterate. So he went 
sometimes sighingly and sometimes comfortably, 
but much refreshed by reading in his roll. 

Together therefore they went on, till they came 
at the foot of the Hill Difficulty; and this is about 
as far as Formalist and Hypocrisy will ever go in 
religion. You will always find them stopping at 
the foot of Hill Difficulty. Formalism and Hypo- 
crisy may always be a ridiculing and persecuting 
religion, but never a suffering one. At the bottom 
of this hill there were two other paths beside the 
strait one, turning off one to the left, the other to 
the right ; and there always will be such paths 
where there are difficulties ; there always will be 
ways, by which persons so disposed may avoid 
difficulties, and indulge themselves ; but when 
people turn aside to go in them, it were well to 
note distinctly that they are not the strait and narrow 



HILL DIFFICULTY. 287 

way, and do not lead to heaven. Over this Hill 
Difficulty must Christian go. But Formalist and 
Hypocrisy, seeing how high and steep it was, con- 
cluded between themselves that these two con- 
venient paths, winding off so opportunely and 
invitingly at the bottom, must of course meet again 
in the strait and narrow way on the other side of the 
hill, and so determined to try them. 

Mark you, they did not intend to quit the strait 
way entirely, into which they came at first by 
tumbling over the wall, but to come into it again, 
after avoiding the Hill Difficulty. And so a great 
many persons intend to conform to the world, or 
to indulge in sinful things only in certain points, 
only for the present distress, and then come up 
again, just as a boat may strike her sails in 
being under a bridge, and then raise them again. 
And a great many persons intend to come at 
Heaven without its costing them any thing. I 
will not undertake to say that if Formalist and 
Hypocrisy had known that these by-paths would 
never come again into the right way, they would 
not have gone over the hill ; perhaps they might, 
and not have turned aside till they came to a more 
fearful evil. But Christian saw them no more. 
The names of these paths were Danger and De- 
struction, and they each took one, and wandered 
on till they came to dreary woods and dark moun- 
tains, where they stumbled and fell, and rose no 
more. And herein was fulfilled that in the one 
hundred and twenty-fifth Psalm, As for such as 
turn aside into crooked ways, the Lord shall lead 
them forth with the workers of iniquity. 



288 CHRISTIAN ON THE 

There was a cool delicious spring at the bottom 
of this Hill Difficulty, as there generally is where 
the Lord's people have peculiar hardships to en- 
counter, according to the promise, As thy strength 
is, so shall thy day be. There are angels for 
Hagar in the wilderness, quails for Elijah pursued 
by his enemies, springs of water in the desert, 
where, when God pleases, the rain shall fill the 
pools to give drink to his beloved ones. Unto 
whatever conflict or labor God calls his people, he 
always gives the necessary preparation thereunto. 
So Christian went and drank of this precious 
spring at the bottom of the Hill Difficulty. From 
the eyes of Formality and Hypocrisy it seems to 
have been kept sealed, or, as it was pure cold 
water for a thirsty soul, they, having no spiritual 
thirst, cared not for it ; but Christian drank there- 
of and was sweetly refreshed ; for God hath said, 
He that hath mercy on them shall lead them, even 
by the springs of water shall he guide them. So 
with this draught of the water of life, Christian, 
animated and invigorated, addressed himself to 
the hill. 

At first he ran, then he had to content himself 
with walking, and that very wearily and slowly, 
but at length it became so steep that he was fain 
to clamber up on his hands and knees. Some- 
times it is with the greatest labor and trial, that 
in our Christian course we make any progress 
whatever. We have to clamber from duty to duty, 
from prayer to prayer, from chapter to chapter in 
God's word. It is like an invalid climbing the 
pyramids, and with all the assistance we can get, 



HILL DIFFICULTY. 289 

it is slow work. Every tiling within and without 
seems to be against us. We wait upon the Lord, 
but the heart is still heavy, the air seems heavy, 
and we do not mount up on wings as eagles, and 
though we walk we are weary, and we faint if we 
run. Many a Christian is climbing the Hill 
Difficulty when you cannot see his troubles. 

But the Lord does not forget to be gracious. 
About midway of the Hill there was a pleasant 
arbor, for the refreshment of weary travellers, 
where Christian with thankfulness sat down to 
rest him. And now he began to look over his 
evidences, and to regard with great comfort and 
delight the garment that the Shining Ones had 
given him, so that he almost forgot that he was to 
go any farther, or that there was any more work 
for him to do. He forgot the exhortation to grow 
in grace, and in the knowledge of our Lord and 
Saviour, and to press forward towards the mark 
for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ 
Jesus ; and he was so well satisfied with himself, 
his roll, his robe, his acceptance with God, that 
while he was resting, the spirit of slumber came 
over him, and what at first he intended should only 
be a moment's nap, like a man asleep during ser- 
mon time in church, became a thorough deep sleep, 
which endured even till the twilight ; and in this 
sleep, Christian's roll fell out of his hand. Ah, 
if the great adversary had been there, ill would it 
have fared then with poor Christian. He is fast 
asleep, and his roll has fallen, and the night is 
coming, and he is only half way up the hill, and 
still he sleeps on. He that sleeps is a loser, says 



290 CHRISTIAN ON THE 

Bunyan in the margin ; that arbor was never 
designed to sleep in, but to rest in. But there is 
One who watches over him, who will not leave 
him, who helpeth our infirmities. This gracious 
Being whispered in his ear, Go to the ant, thou 
sluggard ; consider her ways and be wise ! Ay, 
that was a timely awakening and warning — so 
great is the Holy Spirit's faithfulness and mercy, 
even when we lose ourselves in slumber. 

Christian could now say, in that very striking 
verse of Watts, which those who have such a pas- 
sion for altering our familiar hymns to make them 
correspond to their self-constituted musical judg- 
ment, have dephlogisticated in the hymn-book : 

The little ants, for one poor grain, 

Labor, and tug, and strive ; 
But we, who have a heaven to obtain, 
How negligent we live ! 

Awakened thus by the Spirit of God, Christian 
started up, and ran as fast as he could, not yet 
knowing that he had lost his roll, till he came to 
the top of the hill. We sometimes fall into a 
state through our own heedlessness, in which 
assurance is gone, and the way is prepared for 
great gloom and anguish, if circumstances of trial 
come on. And yet we may run well, even without 
our roll, so long as there is nothing special to alarm 
us. Poor Christian had to endure a great deal 
of sorrow by that indulgence in sleep. As he was 
running on, Timorous and Mistrust met him, run- 
ning full of terror the other way. What is the 
matter, said Christian, you run the wrong way 1 
Why, said Timorous and Mistrust, the farther we 



HILL DIFFICULTY. 291 

go, the more danger we meet; we had but just 
conquered the Hill Difficulty, when just before 
us we discovered two lions in the way ; so we 
turned, and are hurrying back as fast as possible. 
With that they ran down the hill. 

Now was Christian himself greatly afraid, for 
there is nothing so takes away the courage as the 
consciousness of guilt ; and Christian, on feeling 
for his roll, that he might have that to comfort and 
sustain him amidst these dangers, found that he 
had lost it. And now what should he do 1 What 
had become of it 1 Examining himself on this 
point, he remembered that he had slept in the arbor, 
and then at once falling on his knees, he asked of 
God forgiveness for that foolish sleep, and then with 
great heaviness and sorrow of heart went back to 
look for his roll. Thus, when the Holy Spirit 
brings to mind the sins of the Christian, as he 
is asking himself why he has so little heavenly evi- 
dence, there is no way for him to do but to seek for- 
giveness, confessing his guilt. But it is a fearful 
thing, when the night comes on, when danger and 
perhaps death are drawing near, and you need all 
the comfort, consolation and support that you can 
possibly derive from a good hope in Christ, to find 
that that hope is gone from the soul, to find 
darkness where there ought to be light. 

It is not to be doubted that Bunyan was writing 
this experience of Christian out of his own heart ; 
it is almost the counterpart of his own inward trials 
about the time of his commitment to prison, when 
you will remember there was great gloom upon his 
soul, and the things of God were hidden from him, 

38 



292 CHRISTIAN ON THE 

and neither sun nor stars appeared for many days. 
Then there were dreadful lions in the way, nor 
could he see that they were chained ; then he felt 
afraid to die, because he had no spiritual comfort. 
Bunyan resolved to die for Christ, whether comfort 
came or not, whether he found his roll or did not 
find it. But Christian could not go on without his 
roll. Oh how did he chide himself for being so 
foolish as to fall asleep in that place, which was 
erected only for a little refreshment of his weari- 
ness. When he came back to the arbor, the very 
sight of it renewed his sorrow and shame for that 
foolish sleep in the day-time and in the midst of 
difficulty ; that he should have used that arbor of 
rest for ease to the flesh, which the Lord of the hill 
had erected only for the relief of the spirits of the 
Pilgrims. Alas, cried he, that I should have to 
tread those steps with sorrow, and thrice over, 
which I might have trodden but once, and with 
delight ? This is what Christians are often doing, 
and this evil is certainly a great one, of using for 
indulgence and ease to the flesh what God has 
given us to minister to the advancement of our 
spirits. We are not anxious enough to be making 
progress towards heaven ; we are too fond of com- 
fort, and too averse from labor. 

Oh, said Christian, that I had not slept ! Oh 
that God would have mercy on me ! And now the 
fifty-first Psalm came into his mind, and he cried 
out with David, Cast me not away from thy pre- 
sence, and take not thy Holy Spirit from me. Re- 
store unto me the joy of thy salvation, and uphold 
me with thy free Spirit ; then will I teach trans- 



HILL DIFFICULTY. 293 

gressors thy ways, and sinners shall be converted 
unto thee. But oh, thought Christian, without my 
roll I can never have the heart to speak to another 
person as long as I live. What shall I do I what 
shall I do ? He knew now that it was an evil and 
bitter thing to depart from the living God ; yea, this 
experience was as dreadful to him as that under 
Mount Sinai. Yea, says Doddridge, in his Rise 
and Progress of Religion in the Soul, the anguish 
of broken bones is not to be compared with the 
wretchedness of a soul that has departed from God, 
when it comes to be filled with its own way. Oh 
that God would have mercy upon me, said Christian. 
Make me to hear joy and gladness, that the bones 
which thou hast broken may rejoice. Hide thy face 
from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities. Cre- 
ate in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right 
spirit within me ! 

Oh that I knew where I might find him, said 
Christian. Behold, I go forward, but he is not 
there ; and backward, but I cannot perceive him. 
This must always be the case, when a child of God 
departs from God ; and if it be not so, then there 
is great reason to believe that the person so wan- 
dering, and yet not troubled on account of it, is 
not a child of God. If Christian had said within 
himself, when he found his roll was missing, Well, 
it is not essential, or I shall find it again by and 
by, and so had gone on, indifferent and easy, it 
had been enough to show that either he was not 
Christian, or that much sorer evil awaited him, 
and sharper discipline to bring him to repentance. 
But he could not go on in this manner, his con- 



294 CHRISTIAN ON THE 

science was too tender, and his sense of divine 
things too vivid ; and so the sorrows of death 
compassed him, and the pains of hell gat hold 
upon him ; he found trouble and sorrow ; and 
back did he go, weeping and looking for his roll, 
and crying, O Lord, I beseech thee deliver my soul. 
Now God sees all this in his children, and per- 
mits them to endure this distress, that they may 
gain a lesson from it, which will last them as long 
as they live. But he knows what he does unto 
them, and just what they need. When my spirit 
was overwhelmed within me, then thou knewest 
my way. And just so, when Christian had well 
nigh given up in despair, and was sitting himself 
down to weep, disconsolate and broken-hearted, as 
kind Providence would have it, looking through his 
tears beneath the settle, there he espied the roll, and 
with what trembling, eager haste did he catch it up 
and secure it again in his bosom ! Oh, who can tell 
how joyful he was when he had gotten his roll again ! 
And now returning thanks to God for directing his 
eye to the place where it lay, (and ever should the 
Christian who has been wandering from God, and 
so has gotten into darkness, be thankful for the 
least ray of returning light, and ever will he, for no 
deliverance is so grateful to the soul as that,) 
Christian did with joy and tears betake himself 
again to his journey. But he had lost a great deal 
of time, and it was now growing dark, and now 
he began again to think of what Mistrust and 
Timorous had told him about the lions, a thing 
which his misery in the loss of his roll had driven 
at first from his mind, just as great griefs medicine 



HILL DIFFICULTY. 295 

the less. Now, said Christian to himself, these 
beasts range abroad in the night for their prey, and 
if I should meet them in the dark, how should I 
escape being torn in pieces'? 

So he went on, troubling himself greatly with these 
thoughts, when suddenly there rose before him like 
a dream a very stately palace, close by the highway 
side, which being within the walls of salvation, and 
directly where he must pass by, he knew to belong 
to the Lord of the way, and therefore to the Pil- 
grims ; or at any rate that the Pilgrims would there 
be welcome. Now if he might get to that palace, 
and be lodged there, he would care little for the 
lions ; but as he went forward towards the narrow 
passage which led up to the gate, being very 
closely on the watch to see the lions of Mistrust 
and Timorous' description, there they were, sure 
enough, grim and terrible; and now he thought of 
going back, but the porter cried out to him, re- 
proving him for his want of strength and faith, 
and telling him that the lions were chained, and 
were suffered to be there to try the faith of pil- 
grims, if they had it, and to discover if they had 
none. With this was Christian greatly encou- 
raged ; but with all this he went trembling and 
afraid, and keeping to the middle of the path ; and 
though he heard the lions roar on him, yet they 
did him no harm, and when he got passed them he 
clapped his hands, and made haste up to the 
porter at the entrance to the Palace Beautiful. 
May I lodge here to-night ? said he. So he was 
told that the Lord of the Hill himself had built this 
house for the relief and security of pilgrims. The 



296 CHRISTIAN ON THE 

porter asked Christian several questions, as who 
he was, and where from, and what was his name, 
and whither he was going, and why he came so 
late, all which interrogatories Christian ingenu- 
ously answered, especially the last, confessing his 
sinful, sorrowful sleep. 

There are some important lessons to be learned 
from this Hill Difficulty, as first, the folly of think- 
ing to gain heaven without trouble and self-denial. 
In nothing else in this world do men ever act 
on this principle. If there be any great thing to 
be gained in this life, all men are sure that it 
is going to cost great effort, and they are ready to 
make such effort ; nor is it a light thing that will 
turn them aside. They will go up a Hill Difficulty, 
without drinking at any spring but that of their own 
sanguine expectation, and without deigning to rest 
in any arbor by the way, much more without losing 
time by sleeping in it. And if there be lions in 
the way, they will go at them at once ; yea, if a 
loaded cannon stood in their path, and a bag of 
gold beyond it, or the cup of sinful pleasure, they 
would go on. If there be mountains which they 
cannot overtop, they will dig through them ; and 
they will surfer days of weariness and nights of 
pain, they will make long pilgrimages, will expa- 
triate themselves for years, and suffer banishment 
from families, friends, firesides, into strange lands, 
will cross oceans, and encounter perils of every 
name and shape, to accomplish and realize the 
object of their earthly ambition ; and after all, 
what is it ? A dream, a straw, a bauble, a flake of 
foam on the surface of a river. They pluck it, it 



HILL DIFFICULTY. 297 

is gone, and they are gone with it. While they 
snatch at it they pass into eternity, and death 
finishes their plans forever. 

But even the poor things they seek for in this 
life, they do not expect to gain without labor. 
And shall we expect to gain heaven without labor 1 
Is not heaven worth laboring after 1 And is it not 
the part of wisdom so to run not as uncertainly, so 
to fight, not as one that beateth the air ? Now we 
ought soberly to say, I expect difficulties, and I 
mean, by God's grace, not to be discouraged when 
I meet with them. They are, in truth, the very 
means which God must use for my discipline. It 
is only by meeting and overcoming them that I can 
be fitted for heaven. And as to the dangers in 
the way, the best way of safety from them is to 
come up boldly to them. If we stand afar off and 
tremble, they seem much greater than they are. If 
we march strait on, confiding in Christ, we always 
find that the lions are chained, and can only roar 
at us, and do no harm. At all events, it is better 
to go forward than backward. Be not like Mis- 
trust and Timorous. It is more dangerous to run 
down the Hill Difficulty than to clamber up. 
And he that putteth his hand to the plough and 
looketh back, is not fit for the kingdom of heaven. 

We see here, likewise, the repetition of that 
lesson that nothing is so hard to bear as a wound- 
ed conscience, a mind not at peace with God. 
There is nothing so hard for the Christian to bear 
as that ; and when the light of God's countenance 
is hidden from him by reason of sin, be you sure 
that there is not a creature in the world so misera- 



298 CHRISTIAN ON THE HILL DIFFICULTY. 

ble as he. But if sin and conscience can make 
him so miserable, who has only fallen for a season 
into its power, as Christian did in the arbor, and 
who has a Saviour to go to, and will go to him, 
and stay at the foot of the cross even amidst the 
darkness, what work must it make in that man's 
soul who never asked forgiveness, never went to 
Christ — what work will it make, when sin and 
conscience, long hidden, concealed, sleeping, are 
developed, roused up and busy in the soul 1 Oh, 
if the fire that is thus kindled begins to be noticed 
first, not until the soul enters on the eternal world, 
then it will never go out. So beware how you 
have conscience for an enemy. 

O Conscience ! who can stand before thy power ? 
Endure thy gripes and agonies one hour % 
Stone, gout, strappado, racks, whatever is 
Dreadful to sense, are only toys to this. 
No pleasures, riches, honors, friends can tell 
How to give ease in this : — 'tis like to hell. 

Call for the pleasant timbrel, lute, and harp : 
Alas ! the music howls ! The pain 's too sharp 
For these to charm, divert, or lull asleep : 
These cannot reach it ; as the wound 's too deep. 
Let all the promises before it stand, 
And set a Barnabas at its right hand ; 
These in themselves no comfort can afford, 
'Tis Christ, and none but Christ, can speak the word. 
There goes a power with his Majestic Voice, 
To hush the raging storm, and charm its noise. 
Who but would fear and love and do his will, 
Who bids such tempests of the soul be still ! 

Flavel. 



CHRISTIAN'S FIGHT WITH APOLLYON 



IN THE 



VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 



Conversation with Discretion, Prudence, Piety and Charity. — Blessedness of Chris- 
tian Communion. — Too much sometimes anticipated. — Danger of making 
Church-membership salvation. — Preparation for the Christian Conflict. — Apoll- 
yon's assault upon Christian. — The fiery darts of the Wicked One. — Entering 
into temptation. — Christian's passage through this vaUey compared with the 
experience of Christiana, Mercy, and the children. — Pleasantness and grace of the 
VaUey of Humiliation to a contented and submissive mind. 

We left Christian, delivered from his dangers; 
and relieved from his distresses for a season, at 
the Gate of the House Beautiful. But you will 
observe that the porter does not admit him at once., 
nor without inquiry. According to the rules of 
the house, Watchful, the porter, rings the bell and 
commends Christian to the interrogatories of a 
grave and beautiful damsel, called Discretion. A 
number of questions were put to him, and sin- 
cerely answered, and so much affectionate kind- 
ness and sympathy were manifested on the part of 
Discretion, that Christian had nothing to fear as 
to his reception. Then Discretion called for Pru- 
dence, Piety, and Charity, and after this conversa- 
tion, they welcomed him into the household of 

39 



800 christian's fight with apollyon 

Faith. There, during his delightful abode with 
its happy inmates, he was entertained, as the 
Lord of the way had provided that all pilgrims 
should be in his house, with the most cordial 
hospitality and love. He was instructed with 
much godly conversation, and with many edifying 
sights, and he was clad in a complete suit of 
armor, to prepare him against the dangers of the 
future way. On his part, he entertained the 
household as much as they did him, by the account 
he gave of his own experience thus far. Piety 
made him tell all that had happened in his pil- 
grimage from his first setting out to his arrival at 
the House Beautiful. Prudence asked him about 
his feelings now in reference to the land of his 
nativity, and the habits he used to be in at the 
City of Destruction. 

And here Bunyan has left us in no doubt as to 
his own views in the exposition of the controverted 
passage in the seventh of Romans. He shows 
clearly that he regards the experience there re- 
corded as a description of the conflict between 
good and evil still going forward in the Christian's 
soul. " Do you not," asked Piety, " still bear 
with you some of those things that you were 
conversant withal in the City of Destruction I" 
"Might I but choose mine own things," answered 
Christian, " I would choose never to think of 
those things more ; but when I would do good, 
evil is present with me." Bunyan was too deeply 
experienced in the evils of the human heart, too 
severely had been disciplined with the fiery darts 
of the Wicked One, to suffer his Christian to make 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 301 

any pretence whatever to perfection. Too sadly 
did Christian find within himself the struggle 
between nature and grace, to suffer him to fall into 
any such dream or delusion. He made no pre- 
tence to have conquered all sin, or got superior 
to it ; but his trust was in Christ ; and his su- 
preme desire was after holiness. " But do you 
not find sometimes," said Prudence, " as if those 
things were vanquished, which at other times are 
your perplexity V " Yes," said Christian, " but 
that is but seldom ; but they are to me golden 
hours, in which such things happen to me." 
Prudence then asked him how it was, by what 
means he ever succeeded in vanquishing his ene- 
mies and getting free from the disturbers of his 
peace 1 

Christian's answer is very beautiful. "When I 
think what I saw at the cross, that will do it ; and 
when I look upon my broidered coat, that will do 
it ; and when I look at my roll that I carry in my 
bosom, that will do it ; and when my thoughts wax 
warm about whither I am going, that will do it." 
Ah yes, it is the cross, by which we conquer sin ; 
it is the remembrance of Him who hung upon it. 
And he that hath this hope in him, purifieth him- 
self as he is pure. And having these evidences 
and these promises, faith gets the better of inward 
corruptions, and overcomes also the world. Nor, 
lastly, is there any thing more powerful to give us 
the victory over sin, than a clear view of heavenly 
realities, warm thoughts about the heaven to which 
we are going, visions of Mount Zion above, and 
the innumerable company of angels, and Jesus 



302 christian's fight with afollyon 

the Mediator, and the assurance that we shall be 
like him, for we shall see him as he is. There is 
no death there, nor sin, nor weariness, nor disorder; 
and the Christian is weary of his inward sickness, 
and would fain be where he shall sin no more, 
and with the company that shall continually cry, 
Holy, Holy, Holy ! 

After this, Charity in like manner conversed 
with Christian, and all the while they were at 
table their talk was only of the Lord of the hill, 
and all his grace and glory, and what he had done 
and suffered for them, and all his amazing endless 
love to poor pilgrims, and his tender care in build- 
ing that house for them ; and so they discoursed 
even till late at night, for how could they ever be 
wearied with such a theme ! And how did Chris- 
tian's heart burn within him as they spake of his 
Saviour's love, and suffering, and glory ! It may 
remind us of the poet Cowper's exquisitely beau- 
tiful description of the conversation in the walk to 
Emmaus. 

Ah, theirs was converse such as it behooves 
Man to maintain, and such as God approves. 
Christ and his character their only scope, 
Their subject, and their object, and their hope. 
The recollection, like a vein of ore, 
The farther traced, enriched them still the more. 
O days of heaven, and nights of equal praise, 
Serene and peaceful as those heavenly days 
When souls drawn upwards in communion sweet, 
Enjoy the stillness of some close retreat, 
Discourse, as if released and safe at home, 
Of dangers past, and wonders yet to come, 
And spread the sacred treasures of the breast 
Upon the lap of covenanted rest ! 

This was a heavenly evening for Christian, a 
season of blessedness long to be remembered, 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 303 

and to walk in the strength of it. They closed 
their hours of sacred converse with the sweetness 
of family prayer, and then betook themselves to 
rest ; the Pilgrim they laid in a large upper cham- 
ber, whose window opened towards the sunrising ; 
the name of the chamber was Peace, where he 
slept till break of day, and then he awoke and 
sang. 

Now, after all this, can any be at a loss to un- 
derstand the meaning of the House Beautiful, or 
that era in the life of the Pilgrim at which Christian 
had arrived I We think every one will see drawn 
in these symbols, with great beauty and delightful- 
ness of coloring, the institution and ordinances of 
the visible church of Christ on earth ; the fellow- 
ship and divinely blest communion, the mutual 
instruction and edification, the happiness, hopes, 
promises, foretastes, enjoyments, growth in grace, 
and preparation for usefulness, peculiar to this 
sacred heavenly kingdom, belonging to the body of 
Christ, and growing out of a right use of its precious 
privileges. 

"Tis a sweet tie that binds 

Our hearts in Christian love, 
The fellowship of kindred minds 

Is like to that above. 

This was indeed to Christian something like 
the Mount of Transfiguration ; it was good to be 
there. It was like the day after those six days 
when Jesus took Peter and James and John, and 
went up into a mountain alone, and was trans- 
figured before them. Bunyan himself had found 
such a season, about the time when he united with 



304 christian's fight with apollyon 

the church of Christ in Bedford, and this glory and 
refreshing comfort continued with him many 
weeks, and his own feelings were like those of 
Peter. And Peter answered and said to Jesus, 
Master, It is good for us to be here, and let us 
make three tabernacles, one for thee, and one for 
Moses, and one for Elias. For he wist not what 
to say, for he was sore afraid. And there was 
a cloud overshadowed them, and a voice came 
out of the cloud, saying, This is my beloved Son, 
hear him. " Then I saw," says Bunyan, " that 
Moses and Elias must both vanish, and leave 
Christ and his saints alone." Mount Zion also 
was set before Bunyan, and his heart wandered 
up and down as in a labyrinth of glory, through 
the shining mazes of that passage, " Ye are come 
to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, to 
the heavenly Jerusalem, and to an innumerable 
company of angels, to the general assembly and 
church of the first-born, which are written in 
heaven ; to God, the Judge of all, and to the 
spirits of just men made perfect ; and to Jesus, the 
Mediator of the New Testament, and to the blood 
of sprinkling, that speak eth better things than that 
of Abel." " Through this sentence," says Bunyan, 
" the Lord led me over and over again ; first, to 
this word, and then to that; and showed me won- 
derful glory in every one of them. These words 
also have oft since that time been a great refresh- 
ment to my spirit." It was in the memory of such 
experience that Bunyan composed his description 
of Christian's entertainment in the House Beau- 
tiful. 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 305 

It is not, indeed, always the case that pilgrims 
find their anticipations realized in entering that 
house, Sometimes, it may be, because they ex- 
pected miracles from it, because they relied more 
upon it than upon Christ, because they expected 
from an ordinance what is only to be got from 
grace, or because they came to it without that dis- 
cipline of spirit in prayer, and that previous lowly 
walk with God, and that dwelling at the foot of 
the cross, which is requisite. But you will ob- 
serve that this house is put quite far on the way ; 
it is obvious that Bunyan would not have his pil- 
grims enter the House Beautiful so soon as they 
get within the Wicket Gate ; between the Wicket 
Gate and the House Beautiful, between the cross 
of Christ and the visible communion of saints, 
there was much experience, much instruction, 
much discipline, much difficulty, much grace. 
Infinitely less would Bunyan have put the visible 
church, the House Beautiful before the Wicket 
Gate, making church-membership the door of 
heaven, as some would do, to the destruction of 
multitudes of souls. Baptismal regeneration and 
salvation by the Lord's supper are two of the most 
unscriptural, ungodly, and pernicious figments, with 
which Satan ever succeeded in lulling men to 
security in their sins. Bunyan was so cautious 
of every thing like this, he had so much experience 
in his own heart of the dangerous, damning nature 
of a religion of forms, and he knew so well the 
wiles of Satan in that way, and the tendency of 
men, however warned and instructed, to rest in 
forms, that he almost went to the contrary 



306 christian's fight with apollyon 

extreme. He made one of his best pilgrims, as we 
shall see, go past the House Beautiful without 
stopping at it. You may be sure this was because 
in Bunyan's time there was such a hue and cry 
after the church, with its glory, and exclusive pri- 
vileges and forms, its baptism, prayer-book, bench 
of bishops, and no salvation beyond. So he made 
his Martyr-Pilgrim belong to no visible church at 
all ; nor could he more quietly and powerfully 
have rebuked and resisted the fatal error that to 
enter the House Beautiful is to save the soul, nor 
the wicked intolerance, that would restrict salva- 
tion to membership and obedience in the Church of 
England. 

It is well to remark here that the House Beau- 
tiful stands beside the road ; it does not cross it, so 
as to make the strait and narrow way run through 
it, so as that there is no possibility of continuing in 
that way without passing through it. This would 
have been to make a union with the visible church 
necessary to salvation ; and the next step after 
this, and a very natural consequence of it, is that 
of making salvation an essential property of 
church membership, that of making every member 
of the church a saved man ; and the next step, 
and quite as natural, is that of making a particular 
church the only church, the church, to the exclu- 
sion of all others ; and the next step, and also 
very natural, is the excommunication of all dis- 
senters, and the application of such penalties and 
persecutions as may benevolently operate to keep 
men from wandering to the ruin of their souls, into 
conventicles ; such penalties and persecutions as 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 307 

may, with loving fore-, and out of pure regard to 
the salvation of souls, and pure compassion to 
those who are wandering from their Holy Mother 
Church, compel them to come in, that there may be 
one visible fold and one Shepherd. 

Now had this been the case with the House 
Beautiful, there would have been guards posted, 
and prisons erected, all along the way, to arrest 
self-willed dissenters, and bring them back into the 
house, saying to them, You are not permitted to 
be on the way to heaven, unless you go through 
the House Beautiful. There you must pay tithes, 
for it costs the servants of the Lord of the way a 
great deal to keep up this Establishment, and you, 
under pretence of being a dissenter and yet a 
Christian, are not to be suffered to pass without 
paying toll at this Establishment. This would be 
the House Shameful and not the House Beautiful. 
It would be the house of pride, ambition, arrogance 
and persecution ; and not the house of love. But 
blessed be God, there is no such house on the way 
of our pilgrimage. They arrested John Bunyan 
and threw him into prison, because he chose not to 
enter that house, but to worship with God's people 
among the Baptists. 

The communion of saints was never more 
sweetly depicted, than in Christian's sojourning 
in the House Beautiful. But he staid not there 
for pleasure ; that was not the end of his journey, 
nor the object of it ; nor did he there, as in the 
Arbor, use for an indulgence to the flesh what was 
meant for the encouragement and refreshment of 
the spirit. He was up by day-break singing and 

40 



308 christian's fight with apollyon 

praying, and then they had him into the study, to 
show him the rarities of the place ; and the next 
day into the armory, to show him all manner of 
warlike furniture, which the Lord of the w r ay had 
provided for pilgrims, where also he was made to 
see ancient things, which, if Bunyan could be here 
to interpret, he would doubtless tell us were in- 
tended to symbolize that divine grace by which 
the servants of the Lord have done so many won- 
derful things, that grace which, though to the 
world and the Goliahs in it, it looks as foolish as 
David's sling and pebble stones against a giant 
in full armor, is yet stronger than death, and shall 
overcome every thing ; for the foolishness of God 
is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is 
stronger than men. And the i.ext day they showed 
him from the top of the house a far off view of 
the Delectable Mountains, Immanuel's land, woods, 
vineyards, fruits, flowers, springs and fountains, 
where from the mountain summits they told him he 
should see the gate of the Celestial City. Faith, 
said they to Christian, is the substance of things 
hoped for, the evidence of things not seen ; and 
the afflictions you meet with by the way will be but 
light things to you, if you keep the glories of 
heaven in your mind's eye, and the thoughts of 
what you are to meet with there warm in your 
heart. 

I love, by faith, to take a view 

Of brighter things in heaven ; 
Such prospects oft my strength renew 

When here by tempests driven. 

This view Christian could enjoy with increasing 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 309 

clearness, and found more and more the blessed- 
ness of it, the nearer he came to the Celestial City. 
For God, he could say, 

For God has breathed upon a worm, 

And given me from above, 
Wings such as clothe an angel's form, 

The wings of joy and love. 
With these to Pisgah's top I fly, 

And there delighted stand, 

To view beneath a shining sky, 

The spacious, promised land. 

The Lord of all the vast domain 

Has promised it to me, 
The length and breadth of all the plain, 

As far as faith can see. 

So when they had had much pleasant and profitable 
discourse with him, as Christian was eager to go 
on, they would detain him no longer, but had him 
again into the armory, where they clothed him 
from head to foot in the armor of righteousness 
on the right hand and on the left, sword, shield, 
helmet, breastplate, all-prayer, and shoes that 
would not wear out, according to faithful Paul's 
directions. " Put on the whole armor of God, that 
ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the 
devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, 
but against principalities, against powers, against 
the rulers of the darkness of this world, against 
spiritual wickedness in high places. Wherefore, 
take unto you the whole armor of God, that ye 
may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having 
done all, to stand. Stand therefore, having your 
loins girt about with truth, and having on the 
breastplate of righteousness, and your feet shod 
with the preparation of the gospel of peace ; above 
all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall 



310 christian's fight with apollyon 

be able to quench the fiery darts of the Wicked 
One ; and take the helmet of salvation, and the 
sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God ; 
praying always and watching with all prayer and 
supplication in the Spirit." 

So, in accordance with these directions, they 
harnessed Christian, and sent him away armed. 
But indeed, he needed all his armor, for the 
hour of danger was near. Great helps from the 
Lord, great and sweet experiences of grace, are 
ordinarily granted when God has some great trial 
for his people to pass through ; so, when the 
Christian has been enjoying much sacred com- 
munion with Christ, and had much of the glory 
of God shining into his heart in the face of Jesus, 
he should say to himself, Now must I be watch- 
ful ; this is not merely for my comfort, but to 
prepare me for what is to come, for labors and 
for conflicts, and if I be not wary, my very 
spiritual enjoyments will put me off my guard, 
and make me proud or self-indulgent. Now must 
I keep in my hand the weapon of all prayer. 
So was Christian in need, for Apollyon was near. 

And first, he had to go down into the Valley of 
Humiliation, and this itself was hard and dan- 
gerous work, for the House Beautiful stood on a 
mount, as it were, even above the Hill Difficulty, 
and the humbling of the soul before God is as 
hard a work as climbing that hill. So Discretion, 
Piety, Prudence, and Charity, all must needs 
accompany Christian down into that Valley ; he had 
need of them all, and of their sweet discourses by 
the way ; and by their help, going warily, he got 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 311 

down to the bottom of the hill. Here, therefore,, 
kindly giving him refreshments for the way, they 
bade him God speed, and he went on. 

On very many accounts, this going down into 
the Valley of Humiliation is extremely difficult ; and 
few indeed there be, who do not, like Christian, get 
some slips by the way. Satan here also hath an 
advantage in representing that in going down so 
low, we are going out of the way of influence and 
usefulness. He tells us that great designs for 
God cannot be accomplished in the Valley, and he 
makes it appear as if we were going into darkness, 
or out of the world. He tells us that such a light 
as ours ought to be set on a very tall candlestick ; 
and he sets that bold fellow Shame to work upon 
us, as upon Faithful, and sometimes to go with 
us quite through the Valley. And if he succeeds 
in creating an inward discontent and repining in 
Christian, then, a little further on, he is very likely 
to bestride the path as Apollyon, brandishing his 
flaming darts. So, in going down into this valley, 
a man must say within himself, What have I to 
do with dictating ? It is God who knows what 
is best, and not I. He knows what is best for 
me, and what is most for his own glory. If I 
be submissive to him, he will make what use of 
me he can ; and though I may miss my purpose, 
he will be sure not to miss his ; and what more 
can I ask or wish for 1 My business now is sub- 
mission. 

But that thou art my wisdom, Lord, 

And both mine eyes are thine, 
My mind would be extremely stirred. 

For missing my design. 



312 christian's fight with apollyon 

Were it not better to bestow 

Some place and power on me ? 
Then should thy praises with me grow; 

And share in my degree. 

But when I thus dispute and grieve, 

I do resume my sight ; 
And pilfering what I once did give, 

Disseize thee of thy right. 

How know I, if thou shouldst me raise, 

That I should then raise thee ? 
Perhaps great places and thy praise 

Do not so well agree. 

Wherefore unto my gift I stand ; 

I will no more advise : 
Only do thou lend me a hand, 

Since thou hast both mine eyes. 

George Herbert. 

This is all we need, — the Lord's guidance ; then 
like little children to follow him, whether it be 
up the Hill Difficulty, or through the Valley of 
Humiliation. If it be he who raises us high, he 
also will keep us from falling ; if it be he who 
lays us low, then we have no business to murmur, 
but simply to say to ourselves, 

How know I, if thou shouldst me raise, 
That I should then raise thee ? 

Now, good Christian, thou art no longer on 
the mount, and here, in the depth of this Valley, 
thou art to meet thine enemy, and try thine armor. 
Bunyan knew this from experience; and here, for 
the much better understanding of this conflict of 
Christian with Apollyon, the reader of the Pil- 
grim's Progress ought to turn to the history of 
Bunyan's own temptations in the Grace Abounding; 
for this passage, and that which follows it, of the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death, are written, as it 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 313 

were, out of Bunyar *s own heart, and describe 
things which some Christians know not how to 
understand, but by the experience of others. You 
will find, from the perusal of Bunyan's own spi- 
ritual life, that he has here brought together, in 
the assault of Apollyon upon Christian, many of 
the most grievous temptations with which his own 
soul was beset, as also in Christian's answers against 
them, the very method of defence which he himself 
was taught by divine grace in the midst of the 
conflict. It is here condensed into a narrow and 
vivid scene, but it extended over years of Bunyan's 
life ; and the wisdom that is in it, and the points of 
experience illustrated, were the fruit of many 
months of painfulness, danger, and desperate 
struggle with the adversary, which he had to go 
through. 

This foul fiend, Apollyon, came across the field 
to meet Christian, just after he had had sweet evi- 
dence of his salvation from heaven, with many 
golden seals thereon, all hanging in his sight. 
" God, says Bunyan, can tell how to abase us, and 
to hide pride from man. For after the Lord had 
in this manner thus graciously delivered me, and 
had set me down so sweetly in the faith of his 
holy gospel, and had given me such strong con- 
solation and blessed evidence from heaven, touch- 
ing my interest in his love through Christ, the 
Tempter came upon me again, and that with a 
more grievous and dreadful temptation than be- 
fore." Now then, the question with Christian 
was, whether to go back or to stand his ground ; 
but he considered, what it were well every Chris- 



ol4 christian's fight with apollyon 

tian should remember, especially in times of dan- 
ger, that though he was well armed in front, he 
had no armor for his back. God has given us a 
shield and a breast-plate, and the command to 
stand ; but no provision for flight, no defence in 
running, nor any safety even in looking back. So 
thought Christian, if it were only to save my life, I 
had better face my enemy ; for if I run he is sure 
to follow, and so to pierce me. So forward he 
went, and Apollyon met him with his dragon 
wings and a disdainful smile, and a rough question 
where he came from, and whither he was going. 
Christian told him plainly that he came from the 
City of Destruction, which was the place of all 
evil, and that he was going to Mount Zion above. 
Apollyon told him he was a reprobate, and one of 
his subjects, and that he would certainly have him 
in his service. 

Christian told him that his wages were such as 
a man could not live oil, for that the wages of sin 
is death, and therefore he would not serve him. 
Apollyon told him that he would give him better 
wages, if he would go back and serve him. 
" Sometimes," says Bunyan of his own meeting 
with the Adversary, " he would cast in such wicked 
thoughts as these, that I must pray to him, or for 
him; I have thought sometimes of that, Fall down, 
or if thou wilt fall down and worship me." 
Christian told him that whereas he once walked 
according to the God of this world, he now, by 
divine grace, had become the servant of Christ, 
the Lord's freeman. Apollyon told him a great 
many had professed to do so, but had turned back, 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 315 

and if he would, then it should go well with him. 
Bunyan was, at one time, tempted to content him- 
self with false opinions, as that there should be no 
day of judgment, that sin was no such grievous 
thing, and that present ease was all he need seek 
after. But then the thoughts of death and the 
judgment would come upon him. Christian told 
Apollyon that he could not go back from Christ's 
service and be forgiven ; but that Christ would 
forgive all his sins in Satan's service ; and in fine, 
said Christian, I am his servant, and I love him, and 
will follow him. Then did Apollyon plead the 
hard lot and grievous ends of Christians in this 
life; but Christian told him they had their glory 
in the life to come. Then did x4pollyon accuse 
Christian of all the sins he had committed since 
setting out to be a Pilgrim ; and this distressed 
Christian greatly, but still he had faith to say that 
he had heartily repented of those sins, and that 
they would certainly be forgiven by the Prince of 
glory. 

Then did Apollyon, with dreadful rage and 
blasphemies, set upon Christian, and launched a 
flaming dart at his breast ; but Christian caught it 
on his shield. And now the fiery darts of the 
Wicked One fell as thick as hail, and poor 
Christian, wounded in many places, grew weaker 
and weaker, and was almost spent, his Enemy still 
pressing upon him, but still kept at bay by the 
Sword of the Spirit in Christian's hand. Among 
the flaming darts which Apollyon cast in, were 
whole floods of blasphemies against God, Christ* 
and the Holy Scriptures ; and many accursed 

41 



316 christian's fight with apollyon 

suggestions, with such a fast seisure upon Chris- 
tian's spirit, and so overweighing his heart, with 
their number, continuance and fiery force, that he 
felt as if there were nothing else but these from 
hour to hour within him, and as though there 
could be no room for any thing else ; and they 
made him conclude that God had, in very wrath to 
his soul, given him up to them, to be carried away 
with them, as with a mighty whirlwind. The 
only thing that prevented utter desperation was, 
that Christian could still perceive, by the hateful- 
ness of these suggestions to his soul, that there 
was something in him that refused to embrace 
them. But this consideration he then only had, 
when Apollyon relaxed a little, for otherwise the 
noise, strength and force of these temptations did 
drown, overflow, and as it were, bury all such 
thoughts, or the remembrance of any such thing. 

What made the fight a thousand times worse 
for poor Christian, was that many of these hellish 
darts were tipped by Apollyon's malignant inge- 
nuity with sentences from Scripture, made to flame 
just like the fiery darts of the Wicked One, so that 
Christian could see no difference, and thought that 
all the sentences of scripture stood against him. 
Yea, it seemed as if the air was full of wrathful 
passages of God's word, showering down as a fiery 
storm into Christian's soul. And now Apollyon, 
following up his advantage, threw a fiery dart, 
which made Christian think that he had commit- 
ted the unpardonable sin ; and the dart was tipped 
with this passage, For you know how that after- 
wards he found no place of repentance, though he 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 317 

sought it carefully with tears. Also another great 
and dreadful dart with this, It is impossible for 
those once enlightened, if they shall fall away, to 
renew them again unto repentance. Also another 
flaming dart with this, He that shall blaspheme 
against the Holy Ghost hath never forgiveness, no, 
never. 

Moreover, what weakened Christian more than 
any thing else, was the entrance into his soul of 
those dreadful suggestions against the Scriptures, 
so that by reason of unbelief he could not use with 
much power the Sword of the Spirit which was in 
his hand, notwithstanding that all this while these 
fearful sentences which Apollyon did cast at him 
burned in his soul like fire, so that Christian 
thought he should be bereft of his wits. 

And now Apollyon, seeing his chance, gathered 
close to him, and w T restling with him, gave him a 
dreadful fall, so that his sword flew out of his 
hand. And now he was indeed gone ; and now, 
said Apollyon, I am sure of thee ; and he so 
pressed upon him that Christian was in despair. 
Darkness came over him, and he could see nothing 
but the dreadful face of the Fiend. But, as God 
would have it ; (mind this, as God would have it^ 
for it was only God's sovereign interposing mercy 
that could help Christian now ;) as God would 
have it, just as Apollyon, with his knee on; 
Christian's breast, was raising his arm to strike 
a dart quite through him, and make an end 
of him, Christian nimbly reached out his hand for 
his Sword, and caught it, saying, Rejoice not 
against me, O mine Enemy! When I fall, I shall 



318 christian's fight with apollyon 

arise ! And with that he gave him so deadly and 
powerful a thrust, even while he was bending over 
him for his destruction, that Apollyon fell back, 
as one that had received his mortal wound. And 
then Christian sprang up, as a new man, and made 
at him again with this flaming promise, Nay, in all 
these things we are more than conquerors, through 
him that hath loved us ! Then Apollyon, with 
hideous yelling and roaring, spread his dragon 
wings, and Christian saw him no more. 

This was indeed a most terrific conflict. May 
God shield us all from such encounters with the 
great Adversary ! With the delineation of Chris- 
tian's own fight, I have mingled the descriptions 
of Bunyan's conflicts with the same Adversary, as 
recorded in the Grace Abounding. Christian, as 
w T ell as B uny an, was certainly brought to the very 
verge of perdition, but it was for the sake of 
after glory, and One there was who would not 
suffer him to be tempted beyond what he was able 
to bear, but stood by him, though invisible, and 
delivered him out of the mouth of the lion. But 
oh the sighs and groans that burst from Christian's 
heart in the fierceness of this conflict ! " I never," 
says the Dreamer, " saw him all the while give so 
much as one pleasant look, till he perceived he had 
wounded Apollyon with his two-edged sword ; then 
indeed he did smile and look upward ; but 'twas 
the dreadfulest sight that ever I saw." Oh, with 
what tears of gratitude did Christian thank God 
for his deliverance ; and then there came to him a 
divine hand, with leaves from the Tree of Life for 
his healing ; and then having partaken of the 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 319 

refreshments given him in the House Beautiful, he 
addressed himself to his journey, for this was no 
place for delay, where such enemies were to be 
met with. So on through the Valley he went, with 
his drawn sword in his hand, the which, though he 
lost it once, had done him such mighty and pre- 
cious service in the battle with Apollyon. It was 
best to be prepared, for who knows, thought he, 
what other enemy may be at hand. And indeed 
the place whence Apollyon came was very near, 
but Christian met with no other fiend or dragon 
quite through the Valley of Humiliation. 

Now, terrible as this conflict is, it will never do 
to regard it in any other light than as an example 
of what every immortal soul has to encounter, that 
resolutely sets out for heaven. There is a conflict 
in this world between heaven and hell, sin and 
holiness, life and death, Christ and Satan, good 
angels and bad, good men, reprobates, and demons. 
There is a conflict between the hosts of heaven 
and the hosts of hell for the soul, and a conflict 
between grace and nature, good and evil, the 
Spirit of God and the spirit of worldliness in the 
soul. Eternal life or eternal death depends upon 
the issue. The soul's great Adversary is one of 
inconceivable power, skill and malignity. There 
is but one other being who is able cope with him, 
and even that Almighty and glorious Being, to 
accomplish his wondrous plan and purpose, became 
like one of us, yet without sin, and in our nature 
became obedient unto death, that he might destroy 
him that had the power of death, even the devil. 
There is therefore no way for Christ's disciples to 



320 christian's fight with apollyon 

overcome this Adversary bnt by the blood of the 
Lamb, and the word of their testimony in regard 
to redemption. 

To some men Satan reveals himself more 
clearly than to others, assaults them more vio- 
lently, and makes them feel more of his power 
and malignity. But all men know what it is to 
enter into temptation, and when that is done, Satan 
is not afar off. Apollyon is near. Therefore our 
blessed Lord, in the prayer he has taught us, 
puts the two petitions in company, Lead us not 
into temptation, but deliver us from the Evil 
One. And Satan is called the Tempter, and the 
shield of faith is given to the Pilgrim for this very 
purpose, that he may be able to quench all the 
fiery darts of the Wicked One. Now there is 
enough of sin in every man's own heart to tempt 
him, and every man is tempted when he is led 
away of his own lust and enticed. And when a 
man thus goes after his sins, he rather tempts 
Satan than Satan tempts him. There is no need 
for Apollyon to advance towards such a man, for 
such an one is coming over to Apollyon ; he rather 
enters into the devil, than the devil into him. A 
man is waited for of Satan, when he enters into 
temptation, and there is much in that expression, 
enter into. Our blessed Lord never said, Pray 
that ye be not tempted, but Watch and pray that 
ye enter not into temptation, that ye enter not 
within it, as a cloud surrounding you and taking 
away your light, and leading you to deceive you, 
that ye enter not into temptation, into its power, 
into its atmosphere, into its spirit, for when that 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 321 

is done, the soul is weakened and easily con- 
quered. 

Men that are led away of their own lusts, that 
are under the power of a besetting sin, or that 
are utterly careless and insensible, do not need 
to be tempted of the devil ; he can safely leave 
them to themselves, for he has a friend within 
the citadel. He need look after such men only 
once in a while, for, going on as they do, they 
are sure of ruin. But good men, and especially 
eminently good men, such as Bunyan and Luther, 
he well knows cannot be safely left, inasmuch as 
the grace of God in them overcomes ordinary 
temptation, and therefore such ones are made to 
feel the power of his fiery darts. Apollyon at- 
tacked Christian, when Formalist and Hypocrisy, 
had they passed through that Valley, would have 
passed without any molestation at all. Moreover, 
Faithful passd through it without seeing or hearing 
any thing of Apollyon ; and also all the Valley 
of the Shadow of Death beyond, Faithful passed 
in clear sunshine, so that Bunyan does not mean 
to represent every Christian as subject to such 
fierce temptations of the devil as he himself was 
called to endure. 

Besides, it is proper to compare this passage 
of Christian through the Valley of Humiliation, 
and the dread conflict with Apollyon in it, with 
the sweet and pleasant passage of Mercy, Chris- 
tiana, and her children, under the care of Mr. 
Greatheart, through the same place. Bunyan 
evidently intends to represent that according to 
the degree of humility and contentedness with 



322 christian's fight with apollyon 

God's allotments in the heart of the Christian, 
will be the degree of ease, security, or delightful- 
ness with which this Valley of Humiliation will be 
passed through, In going down into this Valley, 
Christian is represented as having had some slips, 
though accompanied by Discretion, Piety, Cha- 
rity and Prudence ; and these slips are stated 
in the second part to have been the cause of his 
meeting with Apollyon ; " for they that get slips 
there, must look for combats here ; and the Scrip- 
ture saith, He that exalteth himself shall be 
abased, but he that humbleth himself shall be 
exalted." If those slips were the fruit of discon-r 
tent and self-exaltation, then it is evident that 
Christian needed the sore buffets of the Adver- 
sary, or something equivalent, to humble him ; 
just as unto Paul was given a thorn in the flesh, 
the messenger of Satan, to preserve him from 
being exalted by the abundance of the revelations 
made unto him. But for whatever reason, the 
Pilgrims under Mr. Greatheart found this Valley 
of Humiliation to be one of the most delightful 
places in all their pilgrimage. 

There is also another character, exquisitely 
drawn by Bunyan in his Second Part, that of good 
Mr. Fearing, who was so taken with the beauty, 
peacefulness, and security of this pleasant Valley, 
that he would fain have spent his whole life there ; 
it suited his deadness to the world, and his timid, 
retiring spirit, so aloof it was from all the cares 
and vanities of life, and all the temptations of the 
devil. " Yea, I think there was a kind of sympa- 
thy betwixt that valley and him ; for I never saw 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 323 

him better in all his pilgrimage than he was in that 
valley. Here he would lie down, embrace the 
ground., and kiss the very flowers that grew in this 
valley. He would now be up every morning by 
break of day, tracing and walking to and fro in the 
Valley. But when he was come to the entrance 
of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, I thought I 
should have lost my man : not for that he had 
any inclination to go back ; that he always ab- 
horred ; but he was ready to die for fear. Oh 
the hobgoblins will have me ! the hobgoblins will 
have me ! cried he ; and I could not beat him out 
on't. He made such a noise and such an outcry 
here, that had they but heard him, it was enough 
to encourage them to come and fall upon us. But 
this I took very great notice of, that this valley was 
as quiet when we went through it as ever I knew 
it before or since. I suppose those enemies here 
had now a special check from our Lord, and a 
command not to meddle till Mr. Fearing had passed 
over it." 

Now it is manifest that however pleasant the 
Valley of Humiliation may be in itself, yet if a 
man may bring discontent in his own heart, and 
a proud mind into it, it will be filled, to him, 
with enemies, and Apollyon will be very sure to 
assault him there. But the passage of Christiana, 
Mercy and the children, through this valley was, as 
I have said, most delightful. And in the descrip- 
tion of it, as they found it, Bunyan has, if possi- 
ble, exceeded himself in beauty, that description 
being one of the finest chapters in either part of the 
pilgrimage, and sprinkled with snatches of true 
42 



324 christian's fight with apollyon 

poetry. " Christiana thought she heard in a grove, 
a little way off on the right hand, a most curious 
melodious note, with words much like these : 

Through all my life thy favor is 

So frankly shown to me, 
That in thy house forevermore 

My dwelling-place shall be. 

And listening still, she thought she heard another 
answer it, saying, 

For why ? the Lord our God is good ; 

His mercy is forever sure : 
His truth at all times firmly stood, 

And shall fron age to age endure. 

$0 Christiana asked Prudence who it was that 
made those curious notes. They are, said she, 
our country birds ; they sing these notes but sel- 
dom, except it be in the spring, when the flow T ers 
appear, and the sun shines warm, and then you 
may hear them all day long. I often, said she, go 
out to hear them ; we also ofttimes keep them 
tame in our house. They are very fine company 
for us when we are melancholy ; also, they make 
the woods and groves and solitary places desirous 
to be in." 

" We need not be so afraid of this Valley, said 
Mr. Greatheart, for here is nothing to hurt us, 
unless we procure it for ourselves. The common 
people, when they hear that some frightful thing 
has befallen such a one in such a place, are of 
opinion that that place is haunted by some foul 
fiend or evil spirit ; when, alas, it is for the fruit of 
their own doing that such things do befall them 
there. But this Valley of Humiliation is the best 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 325 

and most fruitful piece of ground in all these 
parts. It is meadow ground, and in the summer 
time a man may feast his eyes with that which will 
be delightful to him. Behold how green this 
valley is, also, how beautiful with lilies! I have 
known many laboring men, that have got good 
estates in the Valley of Humiliation ; for God 
resisteth the proud, but giveth grace to the hum- 
ble ; for indeed it is a very faithful soil, and doth 
bring forth by handfuls. Some also have wished 
that the next way to their Father's house were 
here, that they might be troubled no more with 
hills or mountains to go over ; but the way is the 
way, and there is an end. 

Now, as they were going along and talking, they 
spied a boy feeding his father's sheep. The boy 
was in very mean clothes, but of a fresh and w T ell- 
favored countenance ; and as he sat by himself, he 
sang. Hark, said Mr. Greatheart, to what the 
Shepherd's boy saith : so they hearkened, and he 
said, 

He that is down needs fear no fall, 

He that is low no pride : 
He that is humble ever shall 

Have God to be his guide. 

I am content with what I have, 

Little be it or much ; 
And, Lord, contentment still I crave, 
Because thou savest such. 

Fulness to such a burden is 

Who go on pilgrimage. 
Here little and hereafter bliss, 

Is best, from age to age. 

Then said their guide, Do you hear him ? I will 
dare to say this boy lives a merrier life, and wears 



326 christian's fight with apollyon 

more of that herb called hearts-ease in his bosom, 
than he that is clad in silk and velvet." 

In this Valley, says Bunyan, our Lord formerly 
had his country-house ; he loved much to be 
here ; he loved also to walk these meadows, for he 
found the air was pleasant. Besides, here a man 
shall be free from the noise and from the hurry- 
ings of this life ; all states are full of noise and 
confusion ; only the Valley of Humiliation is that 
empty and solitary place. Here a man shall not 
be so let and hindered in his contemplation, as in 
other places he is apt to be. This is a valley that 
nobody loves to walk in but those that love a pil- 
grim's life. And though Christian had the hard 
hap to meet herewith Apollyon, and to enter with 
him in a brisk encounter ; yet, I must tell you that 
in former times men have met with angels here, 
have found pearls here, and have in this place found 
the words of life. 

Mercy thought herself as well in this Valley as 
ever she had been in all their journey. "The place 
methinks, suits with my spirit. I love to be in 
such places, where there is no rattling with 
coaches, no rumbling with wheels ; methinks here 
one may, without much molestation, be thinking 
what he is, whence he came, what he has done, 
and to what the King has called him. Here one 
may think and break the heart, and melt in one's 
spirit. They that go rightly through this valley of 
Baca, make it a well ; the rain, that God sends 
down from heaven upon them that are there, 
also filleth the pools. To this man will I look, 
saith the King, even to him that is humble, and 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 327 

of a contrite spirit, and who trembleth at my 
word. 

Mercy was right in her preference of this sweet 
valley. The few noises here heard were as the 
voices of heaven to shepherds watching their flocks 
by moonlight. 

Stillness, accompanied by sounds so soft, 

Charms more than silence. Meditation here 

May think down hours to moments. Here the heart 

May give a useful lesson to the head, 

And Learning wiser grow without his books. 

This retired and lowly Vale was a scene for a 
spirit like Cowper's to linger in ; though his soul 
was long in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. 
Strange, that such a discipline should have been 
necessary for such a mind ! This Valley of 
Humiliation, as Christiana and Mercy found it, 
Cowper has described more beautifully than any 
other writer that ever lived. 



Far from the world, O Lord I flee, 
From strife and tumult far ; 

From scenes where Satan wages still 
His most successful war. 

The calm retreat, the silent shade, 
With prayer and praise agree ; 

And seem by thy sweet bounty made 
For those who follow thee. 

There, if thy Spirit touch the soul, 
And grace her mean abode, 

Oh with what peace and joy and love, 
She communes with her God. 

Then, like the nightingale she pours 

Her solitary lays : 
Nor asks a witness of her song, 

Nor thirsts for human praise. 



328 christian's fight with apollyon 

Now if you wish for a commentary in plain 
prose on the sweetness of Bunyan's delineation of 
this Valley, you may find it in the Dairyman's 
Daughter, or in the Shepherd of Salisbury Plain. 
But it is very important to remember that those 
who would find a foretaste of heavenly rest in this 
Valley, must bring into it, in their own hearts, the 
spirit of Heaven ; then, and not otherwise, is it a 
Valley of Peace. When God's discipline disclo- 
ses to a man " the plague of his own heart," then 
he is very apt to lay the evil to the score of 
circumstances, instead of the inveterate diseased 
heart, which needed so much, and perhaps such 
violent medicine for its healing. Oh, cries one, 
if I were only in a different situation, how easy it 
would be to live near to God ! Ah, cries another, if 
I were in the place of this or that happy individual, 
how easy it would be to adorn my profession ! 
Every thing in my very circumstances would lead 
me to it ! Oh, exclaims another, if I had the health 
of such an one, how easy it would be to rise above 
my difficulties and walk with God ! And I, complains 
another, if my occupation did not so absorb me, 
could be as godly as I ought to be ! Oh, if I were 
in the place of my minister, how holy I would 
become ! 

Ah ! I would, and I would, and I would, if it 
were so, and if it were so, and if it were only so ! 
Here, dear friend, is the very plague of your own 
heart revealing itself. You are discontented with 
your situation. You are not submissive to the 
trials God has laid upon you. And, instead of 
seeking to be delivered from your heart-plague, 



IN THE VALLEY OF HUMILIATION. 329 

you are only casting about to find some position 
if possible, where it will not have occasion to 
vex you ; where you suppose, in fact, that it will 
be easier, that it will cost less self-denial to serve 
Christ than it does now. But remember that you 
are not called to be holy in another's situation, but 
your own ; and if you are not now faithful to God 
in the sphere in which he has placed you, you 
would not, probably, be any more faithful, let him 
place you where he might. For he that is faithful 
in that which is least, is faithful also in much ; and 
he that is neglectful in that which is least, is 
neglectful also in much. And as to circumstances 
repressing the plague of your own heart, they would 
only change its exhibition a little. The plague is 
in your heart, and not in your circumstances. 
Prosperous circumstances might, it is true, hide 
that plague ; in a different situation it might have 
been concealed from yourself, but would that be 
any gain \ Would you really be any the better for 
•that ? The revelation of the evil might only be 
deferred till it should work your ruin. How much 
better it is to know it in season, and be humbled 
before God, though it be at the cost of ever so 
much offering. 

And remember that those whose happy lot you, 
under the influence of this envious plague in your 
own heart, deem so desirable, if they are really 
living near to God where they are, would also have 
been very holy in your situation. Take Mr. Wil- 
berforce, for example, a Christian in a sphere of 
life in society in all respects desirable and de- 
lightful in regard to this world, and living in that 



830 christian's fight with apollyon. 

sphere to the glory of his Saviour. Now you 
may perhaps think if you could only change situ- 
ations with such a man, O how easy it would be to 
conquer the plague of your own heart ; how little 
should you feel it, how easy it would be, in such 
a conspicuous situation, with all your wishes grati- 
fied, to shine to the glory of your Redeemer. You 
could do it, you think, and it would cost you no 
self-denial at all. But in your present situation it 
is a hard thing to be a living Christian. Now 
remember that if a man like Mr. Wilberforce could 
change situations with you, he would be a very 
holy and happy man where you perhaps are vexed 
and discontented, and you, in his place, might 
be a very worldly and ambitious men, where he 
was humble and prayerful. Be assured, it is not 
not place, nor opportunities, nor circumstances, 
that make character or minister grace, but it is 
rather character that makes circumstances, and 
grace that makes place. 

So the next time you detect your heart, under 
the influence of the plague that is in it, saying 
to you like a concealed devil, O if I were in such 
or such an one's place, how much good I could 
do, or how holy a person I could become, just 
think of some eminent saint, and say, If that 
person were in my place, how much nearer he 
would live to God than I do, how many opportuni- 
ties that I waste he would use for his Master's 
glory, how he would fill my little sphere, that now 
is so dark, with brightness and happiness ! And 
you, if you will, may do the same. 



CHRISTIAN 



IN THE 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 



Sympathy with spiritual distresses.— ^The power of prayer.— Bunyan's own tempta- 
tions depicted in Christian's distresses.— ^The similar experience of Job, and that of 
David.— The breaking of the light.— Comparison of the experience of Christian 
with that of Christiana and Mercy in this Valley. — The uses of trials. — Effect 
of the hiding of God's countenance from the soul. — Christian's meeting with 
Faithful. 

We are naturally less affected with sympathy 
for men's spiritual distresses, than we are for their 
temporal or bodily evils. The reason is to be 
found in our want of spiritual experience, and in 
the fact that we habitually look at, and are moved 
by, the things which are seen, and not the things 
which are unseen. We are creatures of sense, 
and therefore a great battle, when a kingdom is to 
be lost or won, affects us more deeply than the 
far more sublime and awful conflict, where the soul 
and the kingdom of heaven are to be lost or won 
forever. 

I have stood upon the sea shore, in a dreadful 

storm, and have watched the perils of a noble 

frigate, about to be cast upon the rocks, holding 

by only her last anchor, plunging and pitching 

43 



332 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

amidst mountainous breakers, as if she would 
shoot like a stone to the earth's centre. One after 
another I have watched her masts cut away, to see 
if that would not save her. The shore was lined 
with spectators, trembling, affrighted, weeping, 
unable to do any thing, yet full of anxiety and 
sympathy. 

Now the sight of an immortal soul in peril of 
its eternal interests, beset with enemies, engaged 
in a desperate conflict, with hell opening her 
mouth before, and fiends and temptations pressing 
after, is a much more sublime and awful spectacle. 
A spiritual bark in the tempest, on the ocean of 
life, struggling at midnight through furious gales 
and waves, that by the lightning flashes are seen 
every instant, ready to swallow her up, has nothing 
to compare with it in solemn interest. But of 
all those multitudes of intensely anxious specta- 
tors watching the frigate, on a rock-bound shore, 
ready to perish, there was scarcely here and there 
one, who could have been persuaded to look with 
the spiritual vision at spiritual realities, or to listen 
to the most vivid descriptions of the danger of the 
soul, amidst its struggle with its enemies : scarce- 
ly one, who would even understand the danger of 
the costly spiritual vessel about to be wrecked for 
eternity, and still less any who would sympathise 
with the distresses of such a soul. 

And yet, for one spectator watching the ship in 
a storm on the Mediterranean, there were thou- 
sands tracing the course of such a soul as Bun- 
yan's, out amidst the storms of sin and temptation, 
with fiends flying through the gloom, with fiery 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 333 

darts hurtling the air, with sails rent, and the sea 
making breach after breach over the vessel. 
Angels, that see from heaven to earth, are busy, 
though we are blind. Clouds of witnesses survey 
the course of the Pilgrim, and when he passes 
through a place like the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death, there are, we have reason to believe, more 
good angels than bad ones attending him, though 
he does not see them, by reason of the darkness. 
If he has not earthly sympathy, he has heavenly ; 
and all the earthly sympathy he does get is heaven- 
ly, for it comes from God's own Spirit in the soul. 
They that have been new-born, understand his 
terrors ; they know that there is nothing to be com- 
pared with the peril of the soul beset by its great 
Adversary on the way to Heaven ; nor any anguish 
to be mentioned along with that which is occa- 
sioned in the soul by the hiding of God's counte- 
nance. " When he giveth quietness, who then 
can make trouble ? And when he hideth his face, 
who then can behold him 1 Whether it be done 
against a nation, or against a man only !" 

" Herein," says an excellent old writer, discour- 
sing on the case of a child of light walking in 
darkness, " believers wrestle not alone with flesh 
and blood, and the darkness thereof, but do further 
conflict also with those spiritual wickednesses, the 
Princes of Darkness, about their interest in hea- 
venly privileges, even with Satan and his angels, 
whom the Apostle compares to a roaring lion, 
seeking whom he may devour. And like as when 
God makes the natural darkness, and it is night, 
then the young lions creep forth, and roar after 



334 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

their prey, as the Psalmist says, so do these roar- 
ing lions, now when God hath withdrawn the light 
of his countenance, and night comes on, and these 
damps and fogs of jealousies and guilt begin to 
arise out of a man's own heart, then come these 
forth and say, as David's enemies said in his dis- 
tress, Come, let us now take him, for God hath 
forsaken him, let us now devour him, and swallow 
him up with darkness and despair. And as God 
says of those enemies of his church, I was but a 
little displeased, and they helped forward the 
affliction ; so, when God is angry with his child, 
and but a little doth hide his face for a moment? 
yet Satan watcheth that hour of darkness, as 
Christ calls it, and joins his power of darkness 
to this our natural darkness, to cause, if possible? 
blackness of darkness, even utter despair, in us.'' 

It is much such a picture as this, that Bunyan ? 
our great master of spiritual allegory, hath set 
forth in such glowing colors, in the passage of his 
Christian through the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death. It is night ; night in Christian's soul, and 
therefore night in this Valley. He is walking in the 
path of duty, and no forebodings of evil, though he 
had them abundantly, can turn him back ; and yet, 
it is night in him, and night around him. Gloomy 
dark mountains shut in the horizon ; the chill air 
penetrates his soul with images of the storm before 
it breaks on him ; the path is exceedingly narrow, 
and on either side there are terrible pitfalls and 
quagmires, which must needs prove fatal to any 
that fall therein. What can Christian do I He is 
plainly in the case represented in the prophet 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 335 

Isaiah, being here, as I said, in the way of duty, 
and in the path direct to the Celestial City. "Who 
is among you that feareth the Lord, that walketh 
in darkness and hath no light t Let him trust in 
the name of the Lord, and stay upon his God." 
There is but Gne thing for him to do, and that is, 
to grope his way forward with fear and trembling, 
remembering that God can, if he will, save him 
even here ; and that, even if he were in kings' 
palaces, and God would not save him, he would 
be no better off than than in the midst of that Val- 
ley. Besides, should a man whom God had de- 
livered from the hand of Apollyon, be afraid of any 
of the fiends of darknes, or fear to trust God's 
mercy in the midst of them I 

There arc Christians, who, as Bunyan says, are 
strangers to much combat with the devil ; and such 
cannot minister help to those who come, as Chris- 
tian did, under his assaults. No man is introduced 
to the aid of Christian in all these severe conflcts ; 
all the help he finds is in God only ; direct to Christ 
he must go, for there is no other helper. This was 
Bunyan's own experience- While himself under 
the assaults of Satan, in the midst of this Valley ot 
the Shadow of Death, he did at one time venture to 
break his mind to an ancient Christian. This was 
a good man, but not one of deep experience, and 
evidently unable to enter into Bunyan's difficulties, 
or to understand his state of mind. Bunyan told 
this man that one of his dreadful fears was that he 
had sinned the sin against the Holy Ghost ; and the 
man answered him that he thought so too ! This 
was indeed but cold comfort, and the man that 



336 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

could administer it must have had a most narrow 
mind, as well as an insensible, unsympathizing 
heart ; but you often meet with this want of. ten- 
derness among certain spiritual comforters, who 
take severity and want of feeling to be marks of 
faithfulness. 

Poor B uny an was forced again from man to God. 
" Wherefore I went to God again as well as I could, 
for mercy still, Now also did the Tempter begin 
to mock me in my misery," and under this mock- 
ery, even the free, full and gracious promises of 
the Gospel were as a torment to Bunyan, for the 
Tempter suggested that they were not for him, 
because he had sinned against and provoked the 
Mediator through whom they were given, and also 
that his sins were not among the number of those 
for which the Lord Jesus died upon the cross. He 
was as if racked upon the wheel ; he was tossed to 
and fro like the locust, and driven from trouble to 
sorrow. Every part of the Word of God seemed 
against him; he was as one shut up in a house 
in flames, and running first to one door then to 
another for egress, but they are all fast barred 
against him. Nor could he, by reason of his own 
unbelieving fears, succeed, by any use he could 
make of the Scriptures, in driving the Tempter 
away from him. It was even suggested that it 
was in vain from him to pray ; nevertheless, he 
kept crying out for mercy, and in answer to 
prayer, notwithstanding all that Satan could do, 
deliverance came. It must be this experience 
which Bunyan has in mind, when he makes 
Christian to pass hard by the mouth of hell, in the 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 337 

midst of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
beset with fears and distresses, which he could 
put to flight by no use he could make of the 
Word of God. " Now, thought Christian, what 
shall I do I And ever and anon the flame and 
smoke would come out in such abundance, with 
sparks and hideous noises (things that cared not 
for Christian's sword, as did Apollyon before,) that 
he was forced to put up his sword, and betake 
himself to another weapon, called All-Prayer : so 
he cried in my hearing, O Lord, I beseech thee, 
deliver my soul." 

So did Bunyan cry unto God in the midst of 
his distresses. " Will the Lord cast off forever, and 
will he be favorable no more ? Is his mercy clean 
gone forever, and doth his promise fail forever- 
more 1 Hath God forgotten to be gracious, hath 
he in anger shut up his tender mercies V And 
that promise sustained Bunyan, My grace is suf- 
ficient for thee ; though it was long indeed before 
he could take fast hold upon it, or enjoy to the full 
its abundance of blessing. Long was he in 
passing through the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death : much longer than it seems to take Chris- 
tian to grope his way out of its darkness. And, 
as you will observe, that Christian's conflict with 
Apollyon in the Valley of Humiliation lies in the 
stage immediately before the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death, so that he has to pass frome one directly 
to the other without any interval, save in the 
precious season in which the hand came to him 
with leaves from the tree of life for his healing ; so 
it was with Bunyan himself : so it had been in his 



338 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

own experience. He had two distinct, long, and 
dreadful seasons of temptation to pass through, 
each of them lasting for more than two years — the 
first more nearly resembling this dreadful conflict, 
hand to hand, with Satan, with Apollyon, and the 
second more fully depicted in Christian's fearful 
journey through this Valley of Death, after that 
conflict. There was but a short interval of ease 
and peace between them. " By the strange and 
unusual assaults of the Tempter," says Bunyan, 
" my soul was like a broken vessel, driven as with 
the winds, and tossed sometimes headlong into 
despair ; sometimes upon the covenant of works, 
and sometimes to wish that the new covenant and 
the conditions thereof might, so far as I thought 
myself concerned, be turned another way and 
changed. But in all these I was as those that 
jostle against the rocks — -more broken, scattered, 
and rent. Oh the unthought of imaginations, 
frights, fears, and terrors, that are effected by a 
thorough application of guilt yielding to despera- 
tion ! This is as the man that hath his dwelling 
among the tombs with the dead, who is always 
crying out and cutting himself with stones." 
« Now was the word of the gospel forced from my 
soul, so that no promise or encouragement was 
found in the Bible for me. I had cut myself off 
by my transgressions, and left myself neither foot- 
hold nor hand-hold among all the stays and props 
in the precious word of life. And truly I did now 
feel myself to sink into a gulf, as a house whose 
foundation is destroyed. I did liken myself in this 
condition unto the case of a child that was fallen 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 339 

into a mill-pit, who thought it could make some 
shift to scramble and sprawl in the water : yea, 
because it could find neither hand-hold nor foot- 
hold, therefore, at last, it must die in that condi- 
tion. So soon as this fresh assault had fastened 
on my soul, that scripture came into my heart, 
" This for many days ;" and, indeed, I found it 
was so ; for I could not be delivered, nor brought 
to peace again, until well-nigh two years and a half 
were completely finished." 

This was the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
and so did Christian go trembling and astonished, 
and sighing bitterly by reason of his distress of 
spirit. The pathway was exceedingly narrow, 
with ditches on one side and quagmires on the 
other; also, for a time it was pitch dark, except the 
lurid dreadful light of the flames that were reaching 
into the path towards him ; no other light did there 
seem to be, 

Save what the glimmering of those livid flames 
Cast pale and dreadful. 

Also, in the midst of the darkness, there were 
doleful voices and rushings to and fro, as of mad 
companies, so that he thought he should be torn 
in pieces, or trodden down like mire in the streets. 
But what distressed and terrified Christian, more 
than all other things that he met with in his pas- 
sage through this dreary valley, was the horrid 
blasphemies that were whispered into his ear by 
the fiends coming up behind him, in such man- 
ner that he really thought they proceeded from his 
own mind ; but he had not the discretion either to 
44 



340 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

stop his ears, or to know from whence these blas- 
phemies came. 

Here is a marked feature, drawn, as we have 
seen, directly from Bunyan's experience. This, 
with many other things, "did tear and rend" Bun- 
yan himself in this Valley, out of which none but 
God could have delivered him. " These things 
would so break and confound my spirit," says 
Bunyan, " that I could not tell what to do ; I 
thought at times they would have broken my wits ; 
and still, to aggravate my misery, that would run in 
my mind, You know how that afterwards, when 
he would have inherited the blessing, he was 
rejected. Oh, no one knows the terrors of those 
days, but myself." Yet others, doubtless, unknown 
to any but God and the soul's great Adversary, 
have passed through much the same conflicts. 
What battles are fought with Apollyon, and what 
victories gained though the blood of the Lamb, 
what dreary passages are made in every generation 
through this Valley of the Shadow of Death, will 
never be known till amidst the disclosures of Eter- 
nity, the saints saved shall reveal to each other, for 
the glory of the Redeemer, the wonders of his 
grace in their individual experience. It is but here 
and there that the trials and triumphs of faith come 
to view in this world in such instances as those of 
Bunyan and Luther ; but Eternity will be full of 
such spiritual epics. And in every man's ex- 
perience, however humble, there will be something 
of peculiar glory to the Redeemer. Many are the 
pictures, unseen here, that are to be set in array in 
the eternal world, with the light of the Divine Attn- 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 341 

butes in Christ shining m and through them, to be 
studied and admired forever and ever. 

One of the earliest recorded instances of a pas- 
sage through this dark Valley is that of Job ; and 
one of the sublimest instances of Faith in the midst 
of it is his ; for in almost the same breath in 
which he spake of the darkness in his paths, and 
of his hope removed like a tree, he exclaimed, I 
know that my Redeemer liveth ! While you listen 
to the experience of Job, it seems as if you heard 
Bunyan himself bemoaning his spiritual dis- 
tresses ; and indeed the book of Job might, as 
well as the experience of Bunyan, be entitled 
" Grace Abounding to the Chief of Sinners." 
Who is this that is speaking 1 Is it not Christian 
in the Valley of the Shadow of Death? "He 
teareth me in his wrath who hateth me; he gnasheth 
upon me with his teeth ; mine enemies sharpen 
their eyes upon me. They have gaped upon me 
with their mouth ; they have smitten me upon the 
cheek reproachfully, they have gathered themselves 
together against me. God hath delivered me over 
to the ungodly, and turned me over into the hands 
of the wicked. I was at ease, but he hath broken 
me asunder ; he hath also taken me by my neck, 
and shaken me to pieces, and set me up for his 
mark. His archers compass me round about ; he 
cleaveth my reins asunder, and doth not spare ; he 
poureth out my gall upon the ground. He breaketh 
me with breach upon breach ; he runneth upon me 
like a giant. My face is foul with weeping, and on 
mine eyelids is the shadow of death. My breath is 
corrupt, my days are extinct, the graves are ready 



342 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

for me !" But what is the end of all this 1 « I 
know that my Redeemer liveth !" Fearful was the 
trial, glorious the triumph of this eminent servant 
of God ! 

There was another recorded instance of a 
journey through this Valley, which Bunyan fol- 
lowed, and that was King David's. For the bars 
of death were round about him also, laid in the 
lowest pit, in darkness, in the deeps. When 
he remembered God, he was troubled. " Thy 
wrath lieth hard upon me, and thou hast afflicted 
me with all thy waves. I am shut up, I cannot 
come forth. I am afflicted and ready to die. While 
I suffer thy terrors, I am distracted. Thy fierce 
wrath goeth over me ; thy terrors have cut me off." 
But what was the end in the case of David 1 De- 
liverance and light, so signal and manifest in 
answer to prayer, that his example should be for 
encouragement to all that ever after him should 
have to pass through that Valley. " Thou forgavest 
the iniquity of my sin. For this shall every one 
that is godly pray unto thee in a time when thou 
mayest be found. I was brought low, and the 
Lord helped me. He restoreth my soul. Yea, 
though I walk through the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death I will fear no evil, for thou art with me." 

This was a real Valley, and no imaginary evil, 
but there were also real deliverances. The men 
whom Christian met making haste to go back did 
not at all exaggerate in their descriptions of its 
terrors ; but they knew nothing of Him who would 
walk with all his true pilgrims through the midst of 
those terrors. They could see the fire of the fur- 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 348 

nace, and dared not thin' of entering into it ; but 
they could not see the form like unto the Son of 
God walking with his people in the very flames. 
Why, what have you seen, said Christian I 

" Seen ! Why, the Valley itself, which is as dark 
as pitch : we also saw there the hobgoblins, satyrs, 
and dragons of the pit : we heard also in that 
Valley a continued howling and yelling, as of a 
people under unutterable misery, who there sat 
bound in affliction and irons ; and over that Valley 
hang the discouraging clouds of confusion : Death, 
also, doth always spread his wings over it. In 
a word, it is every whit dreadful, being utterly 
without order." 

This is almost a description of hell. And how 
much more afraid men are of the image of hell in 
this world, of the evils which here are a type of it, 
than they are of its reality in an eternal world ! If 
these men had been as much afraid of losing the 
favor of God, and of being shut up in the prison 
of his wrath forever, as they were of the terrors of 
this Valley, they would have gone through it, sing- 
ing with David, I will fear no evil. For what are 
all the difficulties that can be met with in this life, 
if in the end we may have the light of God's coun- 
tenance 1 A hearty desire after God, and a right 
fear of hell, will put to flight every other fear, 
will make every evil comparatively easy to be con- 
quered, or light to be borne. 

In this disconsolate situation, Christian was 
greatly encouraged, because he thought he heard 
the voice of another pilgrim singing before him, 
which turned out afterwards to be Faithful. He 



344 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

called out, but got no answer, for this other pilgrim 
deemed himself also to have been alone, and knew 
not what to make of it. In truth, when the soul is 
in this experience, it seems as though never a living 
creature had been in it before ; it seems to itself 
utterly alone, and desolate. Nevertheless, that 
sound of singing was a great comfort to Christian; 
for he said within himself, Whoever this be, it is 
clear that he fears God, and that God is with him? 
for he could not otherwise go singing through this 
horrid Valley ; and if God is with him, why may he 
not be with me, though it is now so deep dark that 
I cannot perceive him ; yet, by the time I have 
gone a little farther I may find him. By and by 
the day broke ; then said Christian, He hath 
turned the Shadow of Death into the morning. 

Now, if you wish to trace Bunyan's own expe- 
rience in a very striking manner in this powerful 
sketch, you must turn to his own account in the 
Grace Abounding, of the first breaking of the 
dawn in his own sou] after his dismal night in the 
pit, the prison, and the Death Valley; you must 
note the manner in which he looked back upon 
the dangers through which he had been passing, the 
manner in which he began to approach and examine 
by the daylight, the fears and temptations that had 
been so terrible to him, that had so shaken and well 
nigh distracted his soul. Just so did Christian 
look back upon the ditches and the quags, the hob- 
goblins, dragons, and satyrs of the pit, discoverable 
by the daylight ; according to that Scripture, He dis- 
covered deep things out of darkness, and bringeth 
to light the Shadow of Death. 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 345 

Now, as we have compared the experience of 
Christian in the Valley of Humiliation with that of 
the pilgrims under guidance of Mr. Greatheart, so 
we ought to compare the two passages through 
the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and much 
instruction may be gained thereby. Christiana 
and her company were at one time in great dark- 
ness. " Their conductor did go before them, till 
they came at a place, where was cast up a pit the 
whole breadth of the way ; and before they could be 
prepared to go over that, a great mist and darkness 
fell upon them, so that they could not see. Then 
said the pilgrims, Alas, what now shall we do I 
But their guide made answer, Fear not, stand still, 
and see what an end will be put to this also. So 
they staid there, because their path was marred. 
They then also thought that they did hear more 
apparently the noise and rushing of the enemies ; 
the fire also and smoke of the pit was much easier 
to be discerned. Then, said Christiana to Mercy, 
Now I see what my poor husband went through ; 
I have heard much of this place, but I never 
was here before now. Poor man ! he went here 
all alone in the night ; he had night almost quite 
through the way ; also, these fiends were busy 
about him, as if they would have torn him in 
pieces. Many have spoken of it, but none can 
tell what the Valley of the Shadow of Death should 
mean until they come in themselves. The heart 
knoweth its own bitterness ; and a stranger inter- 
meddleth not with its joy. To be here is a fearful 
thing." 

" This, said Mr. Greatheart, is like doing busi- 



846 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

ness in great waters, or like going down into the 
deep ; this is like being in the heart of the sea, and 
like going down to the bottoms of the mountains ; 
now it seems as if the earth with its bars, were 
about us forever. ' But let them that walk in 
darkness, and have no light, trust in the name of 
the Lord, and stay upon their God.' For my part, 
as I have told you already, I have gone often 
through this valley, and have been much harder 
put to it, than now I am ; and yet, you see I am 
alive. I would not boast, for that I am not my own 
Saviour. But I trust we shall have a good deli- 
verance. Come, let us pray for light to Him that 
can lighten our darkness, and that can rebuke, not 
these only, but all the Satans in hell. So they 
cried and prayed, and God sent light and deliver- 
ance.'* 

A remark pregnant with heavenly sense was 
dropped by one of the boys, which pilgrims beset 
with dangers and difficulties would do well to 
ponder. " It is not so bad," said he, " to go 
through here as it would be to abide here always ; 
and for aught I know, one reason why we must go 
this way to the house prepared for us, is that our 
home may be made the sweeter to us." In this 
remark is much Christian wisdom and beauty. I 
am reminded of Wesley's hymn, or something like 
it;— 

The rougher our way, the shorter our stay, 

The ruder the blast, 
The sweeter our quiet, when storms are all past 

We may also be reminded of those sweet expressive 
lines by Baxter, 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 347 



Christ leads me through no darker rooms 
Than he wei. through before : 

He that into God's kingdom comes 
3Iust enter by that door. 



But the best of all commentaries on the intent 
and meaning of this passage through the Valley of 
the Shadow of Death is to be found in Bunyan's 
thoughts and remarks upon other good men 
who have had to go through it, uttered while he 
himself was quite in darkness, and was looking to 
those bright examples, and wishing from the 
bottom of his soul that he also might thus be 
the favored one of God, Poor Bunyan ! this very 
darkness, these very desperate distresses, proved, 
in the end, that he was himself to be ranked 
among those favored ones ; for when his spirit was 
overwhelmed within him, then God knew his path ; 
then was God leading the blind by a way that he 
knew not. " Oh, how my soul," says Bunyan, 
" did at this time prize the preservation that God 
did set about his people ! Ah, how safely did I 
see them walk, whom God had hedged in ! Now 
did those blessed places, that spake of God's 
keeping his people, shine like the sun before me, 
though not to comfort me, yet to show me the 
blessed state and heritage of those whom the Lord 
had blessed. Now I saw that as God had his hand 
in all the providences and dispensations that over- 
take his elect, so he had his hand in all the tempta- 
tions that they had to sin against him, not to ani- 
mate them in wickedness, but to choose their 
temptations and troubles for them, and also to 
leave them for a time to such things only, that 

45 



348 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

might not destroy, but humble them ; as might not 
put them beyond, but lay them in, the way of the 
renewing his mercy. But oh! what love, what 
care, what kindness and mercy did I now see, 
mixing itself with the most severe and dreadful 
of all God's ways to his people ! He would 
let David, Hezekiah, Solomon, Peter, and others 
fall, but he would not let them fall into the sin 
unpardonable, nor into hell for sin. O ! thought 
I, these be the men that God hath loved ; these be 
the men that God, though he chastiseth them, 
keeps them in safety by him, and them whom he 
makes to abide under the Shadow of the Al- 
mighty." 

Sweet are the uses of adversity ! In God's hand 
indeed they are ; when he puts his children into 
the furnace of affliction, it is that he may thor- 
oughly purge away all their dross, A great 
writer has spoken with great beauty of the resources 
which God has placed within us for bringing good 
out of evil, or, at least, for greatly alleviating our 
trials, in the cases of sickness and misfortune. 
" The cutting and irritating grain of sand," he 
says, " which by accident or incaution has got 
within the shell, incites the living inmate to secrete 
from its own resources the means of coating the 
intrusive substance. And is it not, or may it not be, 
even so with the irregularities and unevenness of 
health and fortune in our own case 1 We too may 
turn diseases into pearls." But how much more 
wonderful are the wisdom and mercy of God, in 
making the spiritual temptations and distresses of 
his people their necessary discipline for their highest 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 349 

good, the means for the greatest perfection and 
stability of their characters. This indeed is a 
wonderful transmutation. God, says the holy 
Leighton, hath many sharp cutting instruments 
and rough files for the polishing of his jewels ; and 
those he especially esteems, and means to make 
the most resplendent, he hath oftenest his tools 
upon. 

Beautifully are the uses of temptations and trials, 
external and inward, illustrated in that old familiar 
hymn of Newton, so like in its language and spirit 
to some hymns which Cowper wrote from similar 
experience. 

These inward trials I employ 
From self and pride to set thee free ; 
To break thy schemes of earthly joy, 
And make thee find thine all in me. 

It seems very strange that with these truths, so 
fully set forth in the Word of God, and so illustrated 
in the examples of many shining Christians, still, 
generation after generation, all men, all pilgrims, 
should have to learn them for themselves, should 
never be satisfied of them, till made to believe 
by their own experience. Every pilgrim ex- 
pects of Christ that by his love's constraining 
power he will subdue the sins and hidden evils of 
the heart, and give the soul rest and relief from its 
corruptions all the way of its pilgrimage. Yet every 
pilgrim in turn has to go through this Valley, has to 
learn by himself both the dreadful evils of the heart, 
and the power of temptation, and the greatness of 
deliverance by the Almighty pow r er and love of the 
Saviour. He cannot learn this by hearing others 



350 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

tell it to him ; God mnst teach him by the precious 
costly way of personal discipline. He can no 
more come to the stature of a perfect man in 
Christ Jesus without this discipline, than a babe 
could grow up to manhood without learning at 
first to creep, then to walk, then to speak, to read, 
to exercise all faculties. The great discipline 
which we need as pilgrims is mostly the expe- 
rience of our own weakness, and the art of find- 
ing our strength in Christ; but it is astonishing 
what severe treatment is oftentimes necessary to 
teach this, apparently the simplest and most obvious 
of all lessons, but yet the deepest and most dif- 
ficult to be learned. 

We are now to be introduced to a new pilgrim, 
and Christian is no more to go on his way alone. 
The sweet Christian communion depicted in 
this book forms one of the most delightful fea- 
tures in it, and Faithful and Hopeful are both 
of them portraits that stand out in as firm re- 
lief as that of Christian himself. . Faithful is the 
Martyr Pilgrim, who goes in a Chariot of fire to 
heaven, and leaves Christian alone ; Hopeful 
springs, as it were, out of Faithful's ashes, and 
supplies his place all along the remainder of the 
pilgrimage. The communion between these loving 
Christians, their sympathy and share in each 
other's distresses, their mutual counsels and en- 
couragements, temptations and dangers, experience 
and discipline, their united joys and sorrows, and 
their very passing of the river of death together, 
form the sweetest of all examples of the true 
fellowship of saints, united to the same Saviour, 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 351 

made to drink into the same Spirit, baptized with the 
same sufferings, partakers of the same consolations, 
crowned with the same crown of life, entering 
together npon glory everlasting. 

Here I cannot but speak again of God r s ten- 
der love to his people in their spiritual distresses. 
It is but a little while, at the uttermost, that he 
lets any w T alk in darkness, and always this dark- 
ness prepares for greater light, and sometimes God 
darkens cur room, that he may show us with 
greater effect those visions of his own glory, on 
which he will have our attention to be fixed, and 
which we either will not or cannot see in the glare 
of the noon day of this world. But always his 
thoughts towards his afflicted people are thoughts 
of peace and mercy, and his language, even when 
they seem to be deserted of God, is of great ten- 
derness. " For a small moment have I forsaken 
thee, but with great mercies will I gather thee. In 
a little wrath I hid my face from thee for a moment, 
but with everlasting kindness will I have mercy on 
thee, saith the Lord, thy Redeemer." 

There are many things which may constitute a 
Valley of the Shadow of Death to the believer. 
There may be such an array of external evils as to 
do this. Sickness, poverty, want like an armed 
man, desertion and loss of friends, the disap- 
pointment and failure of all natural hopes and 
sources of enjoyment, the utter destruction of all 
schemes of usefulness and plans of life, the tri- 
umphing of the wicked, and the apparent prostra- 
tion of the cause of God ; all these things, or any 
of them may almost overwhlm the soul, and be to 



352 



CHRISTIAN IN THE 



it as a death-darkness. Elijah, Jeremiah, Job> 
David, were stricken down beneath such evils, 
sometimes accumulated together, so that they were 
ready to cry out for Death as a friend. But these 
things are not the real Valley ; this is not the 
hiding of God's countenance ; there may be all 
these things, and yet heaven's sunshine in the soul. 
But when God departs, or when the soul loses 
sight of him, then begins the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death. For, who can stand against such aban- 
donment? Who can endure a sense of the wrath 
of God abiding on the soul 1 

'Tis Paradise if Thou art here 
If Thou depart, 'tis hell ! 

This is the language of the believer's heart, and 
this too, is the representation of the Word of God, 
and this is the reality of things. And men only 
need to see things as they are, and to feel things 
as they are, and they will see and feel that they 
cannot live without God ; that without God, though 
every thing might be Heaven in appearance, yet, in 
reality it must be Hell. I say, men only need to 
see and feel the truth, in order to realize this, for 
God is the only life of the soul, and if he be not in 
it, and it be not alive in him, then is its existence 
inevitable misery. The heart without God is at 
enmity against him, and the conscience without God 
is at enmity against the heart, and the thoughts 
without God are self-accusing, fiery, tormenting ; 
and the imagination without God becomes a pro- 
phetic power in the soul, not only to start into 
fresher, fiercer life its present distress and sense of 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 353 

sin and desolation, but to image to it all fearful 
forebodings of future wrath, of interminable deso- 
lation and misery, to fill its horizon with upbraiding 
faces, sometimes with fiend-like forms waiting to 
receive it, and brandishing a whip of the twisted 
scorpions of remembered, known, unforgiven sins. 
The gate of the future, through which the soul must 
pass, is in such a case, 

With dreadful faces, thronged and fiery arras ! 

The sins of the soul, without God, without Christ, 
are the the, prophets of its coming w r oes, and its 
life, when surrounded by them, when under a 
sense of them, when conscience calls them up, and 
there is no sense of forgiveness, is the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death. This is the reality of things, 
even in this world, when the soul has a sense of its 
own true nature and accoutability. And yet, in this 
world it is but the prefiguring type of that Eternal 
Yale, where their worm dieth not and the fire is 
not quenched. Here, it is but the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death; once entered in Eternity, once 
experienced there, it is Death itself, Death without 
God, say rather, Life without God, with all those 
revenging miseries as Realities, which here at 
the uttermost were but predictions and merciful 
warnings to flee from the Wrath to come ! 

Ah, many a man, who is not a Christian Pilgrim, 
enters this Valley in this world, has experience of 
its horrors, who never tells what he felt, never lets 
it be known that he was so far awakened as to see 
and feel what dreadful elements and faces were 



354 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

round about him, pressing upon his soul. Some- 
times the souls of impenitent and hardened men 
are shaken with the terrors of God in this Valley, 
and wrapped in its gloom ! 

A very graphic writer (Mr. Borrow, in his in- 
structive book, The Bible in Spain) describes an 
interview with an imprisoned murderer, who, at 
the close of the conversation, " folded his arms, 
leaned back against the wall, and appeared to 
sink gradually into one of his reveries. I looked 
him in the face, and spoke to him, but he did not 
seem either to hear or see me. His mind was per- 
haps wandering in that dreadful Valley of the Sha- 
dow of Death, into which the children of earth, 
while living, occasionally find their way ; the dread- 
ful region where there is no water, where hope 
dwelleth not, where nothing lives but the undying 
worm. This Valley is the facsimile of hell, and 
he who has entered it has experienced here on earth 
for a time, what the spirits of the condemned are 
doomed to suffer through ages without end." 

Yes ! there is much foretaste of this suffering, 
even in this world, and often, even amidst their 
guilty pleasures, the wicked are made to feel that 
they are themselves like the troubled sea, whose 
waters cast up mire and dirt. When Conscience 
takes a man in hand, and leads him up and down 
through the gallery of his own remembered sins, 
and stops at this picture and that, and points out 
shades and colorings that he never saw before, and 
sometimes darkens the room, and takes down a 
vivid transparency of guilt, and holds it before the 
fire to his vision, so that his past life seems to burn 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 355 

before him, it does not take long in such employ- 
ment to make the room seem walled with retribu- 
tive names, and peopled with condemning fiends. 
Without the sense of God's forgiving mercy in 
Christ, such employment makes a man enter the 
Valley of the Shadow of Death, and there, though 
he may always have thown ridicule upon these 
things among his boon companions, yet these, alone, 
with himself, the sights which he sees, and the 
sounds which he hears are intolerable. 

When the child of God, from whatever cause, 
wanders into this Valley, and has the face of God 
hidden from him, then the universe to him is 
covered with gloom ; then the dead weight of 
anxiety, as the shadow of sepulchral mountains' 
is on its spirit ; he enters into darkness, and is 
wandering on the borders of despair. God hides 
his face, and we are troubled. The gloomy, 
awful solemnity and coldness, that like a twilight 
pall enshroud the earth in a deep eclipse of the sun 
at noonday, making all nature to shudder, and the 
animals to cry out with terror, do faintly image 
forth the spiritual coldness and gloom of the soul, 
when the face of God is hidden from it. That 
eclipse forebodes to the soul the blackness of dark- 
ness forever. Hence the earnest cry of David, 
Hide not thy face from me, lest I become like them 
that go down to the pit. 

At such times Satan may have much business 
with a child of God. " For although," as Mr. 
Goodwin observes, " Satan cannot immediately 
wound the conscience, and make impressions of 
God's w T rath upon it, (for as no creature can shed 
46 



356 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

abroad God's love, and cause the creature to taste 
the sweetness of it, so neither the bitterness of his 
wrath, but God is equally the reporter of both,) yet, 
when the Holy Ghost hath lashed and whipt the 
conscience, and made it tender once, and fetched 
off the skin, Satan then, by renewing the experi- 
mental remembrance of those lashes, which the 
soul hath had from the Spirit, may amaze the 
soul with fears of an infinitely sorer vengeance 
yet to come, and flash representations of hell fire in 
their consciences, from those real glimpses they 
have already felt, in such a manner as to wilder 
the soul into vast and un thought of horrors." 

In the eternal world, there is no living without 
God, but tidying, an eterjjal dying. It is death in 
life, and life in death, for the soul to be without 
God ; and the discovery and sense of these things 
in the eternal world, amidst the convictions of 
despair, will be to the soul as if a man, who has 
been long time dead and buried, should suddenly 
come to life amidst enfolding slimy worms, a 
corrupt decaying carcase, in mould, gangrene, 
and putrefaction. What need of flames, if the 
sinner be left to the full sense and working of his 
own corruptions 1 What man of sin is there, 
who, if he will judge candidly, can do otherwise 
than acknowledge that he finds within himself ele- 
ments of evil, which, if left to work undisturbed, 
unimpeded, unmingled, will work absolute misery 
and ruin. Man of sin ! wilt thou stay in these 
corruptions, and die in them ; or wilt thou go for 
deliverance to Christ Jesus, to him who alone can 
put out these fires, can kill this undying worm, 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 357 

can drive the fiends from thy soul, can throw 
death itself into hell, and make the fountain of 
love, life, and blessedness to spring up within 
thee ! 

Just as Christian gets out of the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death, he passed by a place of bones, 
sculls, images and crosses, the abode of Pope 
and Pagan, whom Bunyan most appropriately puts 
into the same cave together, though Pagan had 
been dead long time, and Pope now occupied 
his place alone. Popery and Paganism are two 
incarnations of depravity wonderfully similar, 
almost the same ; but Popery has, by far, the 
greatest dominion of " the blood, bones, ashes 
and mangled bodies of pilgrims." Christian 
passed by without harm, for now the living giant 
could do no more than grin and bite his nails, 
and growl at the passing pilgrims. " You will 
never mend till more of you be burned." Pos- 
sibly another burning is yet to come, for Giant 
Pope seems in some respects to be renewing his 
age, and he has now so many helpers, that it 
would not be surprising, if he should come out 
of his Cave, and once more, before the final fall 
of Anti-Christ, be seen arrayed in all the power 
and terrors of persecution. The proximity of this 
black Golgotha of Popery to the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death is very natural, considering the 
one as the emblem of the greatest external evils 
that can be met on the way of this pilgrimage, and 
the other as marking the opposite extreme of the 
horrors of inward desolation and spiritual misery in 
the soul. 



358 



CHRISTIAN IN THE 



After encountering all theso dangers, there was 
a mount of vision, up which Christian with ala- 
crity ascended, whence he could see far off over the 
prospect before him. The air was clear and bright, 
its reflection of all images distinct and certain, 
the mists of the Valley of the Shadow of Death 
were far below him, and came not to this border, 
the air was healthful and bracing, he seemed 
nearer to Heaven than he had been in all his pil- 
grimage, and so light and elastic for his journey, 
that it seemed as if he could have flown. Here 
was " an earnest of the Spirit," a refreshment after 
toil and danger. Here, as he looked onward, he 
saw Faithful before him, and shouted out to him 
to stay, for he would be his companion. But how 
should Faithful know that it was not the voice of 
some treacherous spirit from the Pit 1 Faithful's 
answer shows the spirit of the future martyr. I 
am upon my life, said he, and the Avenger of 
blood is behind me ; I may not stay. This net- 
tled Christian, and now comes a beautiful and most 
instructive incident, for Christian, summoning all 
his strength, ran so earnestly, that he soon got 
up with Faithful, but not content with this, and 
being a little moved by spiritual pride, at his 
own attainments, he did run on before him ; so 
the last was first. Then did Christian vain-glo- 
riously smile ! Ah what a smile was that ! how 
much sin, not humble spiritual gratitude and joy, 
was there in it ! But now see how he that exalteth 
himself shall be abased, and how surely along with 
spiritual pride comes carelessness, false security 
and a grievous fall. Not taking good heed to his 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. £359 

feet, Christian suddenly stumbled and fell, and 
the fall was such, that he could not rise again, till 
Faithful, whom he had vain-gloriously outrun, came 
up to help him. 

This is one of the most instructive incidents of 
the pilgrimage, and it might be applied to many 
things. Let the Christian, in pursuing the work 
of Christ, take care of his motives. Earthly am- 
bition is a heinous sin, carried into spiritual things. 
Be not wise in your own conceits. Let us not be 
desirous of vain-glory, provoking one another, 
envying one another. See that you look not 
with self-complacency upon your own attainments. 
A man may vain-gloriously smile w 7 ithin himself, at 
his own labors, at the applause of others, or in 
the comparison of others with himself, and when 
he does this, then he is in danger. When Chris- 
tian did vain-gloriously smile, then did Christian 
meet a most mortifying fall. Peter's boasting of 
himself before the other disciples was not far off 
from Peter's fall. Let nothing be done through 
strife or vain-glory, but in lowliness of mind let 
each esteem others better than himself. Yet, 
there is a right way of coming behind in no gift, 
enriched by Jesus Christ. Whoso seeketh this 
onriching for himself, seeketh it also for others. 
Let this lesson not be forgotten, Then did Chris- 
tian vain- gloriously smile, and when he smiled, 
then he stumbled. 

Now what happiness it was for these Christians 
to meet each other! What delightful comparison of 
each other's experience, what strengthening of each 
other's faith and joy! Each had not a little to tell 



360 CHRISTIAN IN THE 

peculiar to himself, for they had met with various 
dangers, temptations, enemies. They were both 
from the same City of Destruction ; they were now 
dear friends going to the City of Immanuel ; de- 
lightful indeed it w T as to call to mind former things, 
and trace the loving kindness of the Lord thus far 
on their pilgrimage. Faithful had escaped the 
Slough of Despond, but he had fallen into worse 
dangers. The Old Man with his deeds had beset 
him. Then Discontent beset him in the Valley of 
Humiliation, and told him how he was offending 
all his worldly friends by making such a fool of 
himself. But of all his bold enemies, Shame, in 
that Valley, was the worst to deal with, the most 
distressing to Faithful's spirit, whom indeed he 
could scarce shake out of his company. The delin- 
eation of this character by Bunyan, is a masterly 
grouping together of the arguments used by men of 
this world against religion, in ridicule and contempt 
of it, and of their feelings and habits of opinion in 
regard to it. Faithful's ac<?3unt of him and of his 
arguments is a piece of vigorous satire, full of truth 
and life. Faithful was hard put to it to get rid 
of this fellow, but he met with no other difficulty 
quite through the Valley, and as to the Shadow of 
Death, to him it was sunlight. 

The next character brought into view is that of 
Talkative, a professor of religion by the tongue, 
but not in the life, a hearer of the word, but not a 
doer, a great disgrace to religion, and in the de- 
scription of the common people, a saint abroad, 
and a devil at home. But he was a great talker. 
He could talk " of things heavenly or things 



VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 861 

earthly ; things moral or things evangelical; things 
sacred or things profane ; things past or things to 
come ; things foreign or things at home ; things 
more essential, or things circumstantial : — provided 
that all be done to profit." Faithful was much 
taken with this man. What a brave companion 
have we got, said he to Christian ! surely this man 
will make a very excellent pilgrim. Christian, 
who knew him well, related his parentage and 
character, and afterwards Faithful proceeded, ac- 
cording to Christian's directions, to converse with 
Talkative in such a way upon the subject of 
religion, as very soon proved what he was in 
reality, and delivered them of his company. 
Then went they on, talking of all that they had 
seen by the way, with such deep interest as 
made the wilderness, through which they were 
passing, appear well nigh like a fruitful field. 
And now they rejoiced again to meet Evangelist, 
and listen to his encouraging and animating ex- 
hortations, of which, as they were now near the 
great town of Vanity Fair, they would stand in 
•special need. Indeed, it was partly for the pur- 
pose of forewarning them of what they w r ere to 
meet with there, and to exhort them, amidst all 
persecutions, to quit themselves like men, that 
Evangelist now came to them. His voice, so 
solemn and deep, yet so inspiring and animating, 
sounded like the tones of a trumpet on the eve of 
battle. 

The subject of the trials and temptations of 
the Christian in this part of the Pilgrim's Pro- 



362 CHRISTIAN IN THE VALLEY, &C. 

gress finds a beautiful commentary in the hymn 
to which I have referred, by Newton. 

I ask'd the Lord that I might grow 
In faith, and love, and every grace, 
Might more of his salvation know, 
And seek more earnestly his face. 

'Tvvas he who taught me thus to pray, 
And he, I trust, has answer'd pray'r, 
But answer came in such a way, 
As almost drove me to despair. 

I hop'd that in some favor'd hour, 
At once he'd grant me my request, 
And by his love's constraining pow'r, 
Subdue my sins and give me rest. 

Instead of this, he made me feel 
The hidden evils of my heart, 
And let the angry pow'rs of hell 
Assault my soul in ev'ry part. 

Yea more, with his own hand he seem'd 
Intent to aggravate my woe ; 
Cross'd all the fair designs Ischem'd, 
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low. 

" Lord, why is this ?" I trembling cried, 
" Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death V 
" 'Tis in this way," the Lord replied, 
" I answer pray'r for grace and faith : 

" These inward trials I employ, 
" From self and pride to set thee free ; 
" And break thy schemes of earthly joy, 
" That thou may'st seek thine all in me." 



CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 



VANITY FAIR 



The Vanity Fair "of this world.— Temptations to worldliness. — The deportment of the 
Pilgrims. — Their strange appearance to the men of Vanity Fair. — Their trial in the 
Fair. — The martyrdom of Faithful. — How this pilgrimage is regarded in our day. — 
Sketch of Vanity Fair in our time. — Visit to Giant Pope's Cave. — Characters of 
By-ends, Money-love, Hold-the-world, and Save-all.— Logic of Mr. Money-love. — 
Temptations to filthy lucre.— Demas and the mines. — -Danger of the love of money, 
and of conformity to the world. 

Vanity Fair is the City of Destruction in its 
gala dress, in its most seductive sensual allure- 
ments. It is this world in miniature, with its 
various temptations. Hitherto we have observed 
the Pilgrims by themselves, in loneliness, in 
obscurity, in the hidden life and experience of 
the people of God. The allegory thus far has 
been that of the soul, amidst its spiritual enemies, 
toiling towards heaven ; now there comes a scene 
more open, tangible, external ; the allurements of 
the world are to be presented* with the manner in 
which the true Pilgrim conducts himself amidst 
them. It was necessary that Bunyan should show 
his pilgrimage in its external as well as its secret 
spiritual conflicts ; it was necessary that he should 
draw the contrast between the pursuits and deport- 

47 



364 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

nient of the children of this world, and the children 
of light, that he should show how a true Pilgrim 
appears, and is likely to be regarded, who, amidst 
the world's vanities, lives above the world, is dead 
to it, and walks through it as a stranger and a pil- 
grim towards heaven. 

The temptations to worldliness are the strongest 
and most common in the Christian race ; they are 
so represented in Scripture ; we are told of the 
cares of this world, the deceitfulness of riches, and 
the lasts of other things choking the word, that 
becometh unfruitful ; and in many passages we 
are warned against the love of the world, the 
imitation of its manners, and the indulgence of its 
feelings. Especially in that striking passage in 
John, and the corresponding one in James. Love 
not the world, neither the things that are in the 
world. If any man love the world, the love of the 
Father is not in him. For all that is of the world, 
the lust of the flesh, and the lust of the eyes, and the 
pride of life, is not of the Father, but is of the world. 
James is yet more severe. Ye adulterers and 
adulteresses ! know ye not that the friendship of 
the world is enmity with God 1 Whosoever there- 
fore will be a friend of the world is the enemy of 
God. 

Certainly, it was to illustrate these passages that 
Bunyan composed this portion of the Pilgrim's 
Progress. It was ako to show the truth of that 
saying, which the apostles and primitive Christians 
seem to have kept among the choice jewels of 
truth nearest their hearts, among their amulets of 
apples of gold, in pictures of silver, that through 



IN VANITY FAIR. 365 

much tribulation we must enter into the kingdom 
of heaven. In the world ye shall have tribulation, 
said our blessed Lord to his disciples, but be of 
good cheer, I have overcome the world. If the 
world hate you, ye know that it hated me before it 
hated you. I have chosen you out of the world, 
and ve are not of the world, even as I am not of 
the world, therefore the world hateth you. Bunyan 
would show, by the treatment of the pilgrims in 
Vanity Fair, that this hatred is not gone out of 
existence. He would show that the Christian life 
is not a pilgrimage merely of inward experiences, 
but that they who will live godly in Christ Jesus 
are a peculiar people, and must, in some sort or 
other, suffer persecution. They are strangers in 
a strange country. The world, its spirit and pur- 
suits, are foreign from and hostile to their habits, 
inclinations and duties, as children of the Saviour, 
To be conformed to the world is to depart from the 
way of life; the whole race of genuine pilgrims 
must therefore be a strange and singular people, a 
people of nonconformists, whose deportment re- 
bukes and reproves the world, and convinces it 
of sin. It does this just so far as they live up to 
the rules of their pilgrimage. 

It is not always the case, however, that simple- 
hearted godliness, travelling through the w T orld, 
meets with such persecution as Christian and 
Faithful did in passing through Vanity Fair. This 
sketch of Bunyan borrows some shades from the 
severe aspect of his own times ; yet the general 
picture is a picture of all times, the general les- 
sons are lessons for the instruction of all pilgrims. 



366 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

The spirit of Fox's old Book of Martyrs is here ; 
the spirit of the Reformation, and the constancy 
and endurance of those who rode in the chariot of 
fire to Heaven. Bunyan himself was almost a 
Martyr-Pilgrim, and he himself had passed through 
Vanity Fair with much the same treatment as 
Christian and Faithful experienced ; this passage 
is a copy of his own life, not less than the passage 
through the terrors of the Valley of the Shadow of 
Death. Moreover, the picture of the Fair itself 
is drawn from scenes with which Bunyan was 
familiar in England ; from those motley assem- 
blages of booths, people, and sins, still to be wit- 
nessed in that country under the names of Green- 
wich Fair, Bartholomew Fair, and others ; scenes 
where may be witnessed the world of sin in minia- 
ture. These places served Bunyan for the set- 
ting of his allegory, which is conducted with the 
utmost beauty, fulness of meaning, and truth to 
nature. 

The merchandise of this Fair, comprising all 
conceivable commodities that can come under the 
categories of the Apostle John, the lust of the flesh, 
the lust of the eyes, and the pride of life, is 
described with great power of satire. The most 
abundant commodity was the merchandise of Rome, 
a sort of w r are at present in greater demand in 
Vanity Fair, than of long time, since Bunyan's 
day, it hath been. Through this place of Vanity 
Fair, once passed the Lord of life and glory, when 
the Prince and Owner of the Fair tempted him 
with the offer of all the kingdoms of the world, and 
the glory of them. 



AT VANITY FAIR. 367 

In this Fair the garments of the Pilgrims were so 
strange, so different, from the raiment of the men 
of the Fair ; also their language, being " that of 
Canaan," was so unknown that they passed for 
barbarians, and were treated as such. Also, their 
utter indifference as to ail the merchandise of the 
Fair, and their refusal to buy thereof, or to par- 
take in the vain and sinful amusements of the place, 
made them to be considered as persons out of 
their senses. So there was a great hubbub in the 
Fair about them, and they were taken and con- 
fined in the Cage, and made a spectacle, and after- 
wards they were grievously beaten, as being the 
authors of such a disturbance. These men, that 
have turned the world upside down, are come hither 
also. But their patience, forbearance, and gentle- 
ness of deportment did win them some friends even 
among the men of the Fair, which they of the con- 
trary party being very much enraged at, it was at 
length resolved that these men should be put to 
death. 

Now came on the trial ; and here again, as in 
every part of the allegory, Bunyan's own expe- 
rience served him in good stead ; here again he 
draws his picture from real life, from his own life. 
Little could he have thought, when a few years ago 
amidst the taints of his enemies, he himself stood at 
the bar to be examined for the crime of preaching 
the gospel, that the providence of God was then 
laying up in store materials of human life and 
character to be used with such powerful effect in 
his then unconcieved imagined allegory. These 
phases of a world at enmity against God were 



368 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

indelibly impressed on Bunyan's mind, and n<nv, 
in all the freshness of their coloring, he trans- 
ferred them to the tablets of the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress. 

Nothing can be more masterly than the satire 
contained in this trial. The Judge, the Witnesses, 
and the Jury, are portraits sketched to the life, and 
finished, every one of them, in quick, concise, and 
graphic touches. The ready testimony of Envy is 
especially characteristic. Rather than any thing 
should be wanting that might be necessary to 
dispatch the prisoner, he would enlarge his testi- 
mony against him to any requisite degree. The 
language of the Judge, and his whole deportment 
on the bench, are a copy to the life of some of the 
infamous judges under King Charles, especially 
the wretch Jeffries. You may find in the trial of 
the noble patriot Algernon Sidney the abusive lan- 
guage of the Judge against Faithful almost word 
for word. The Judge's charge to the Jury, with the 
acts and laws on which the condemnation of the 
prisoner was founded, are full of ingenuity and 
meaning. 

But the best part of the trial is the heroic cour- 
ageous deportment of Faithful. His answer to the 
charges and the witnesses against him, reminds us 
of Bunyan's answers to the arguments of his accu- 
sers. "As to the charge of Mr. Superstition against 
me, I said only this, that in the worship of God 
there is required a divine faith ; but there can be 
no divine faith, without a divine revelation of the 
will of God. Therefore, whatever is thrust into the 
worship of God that is not agreeable to divine re- 



IN VANITY FAIR. 369 

velation, cannot be done but by a human faith ; 
which faith will not be profitable to eternal life. As 
to what Mr. Pickthank hath said, I say, (avoiding 
terms, as that I am said to rail, and the like,) that 
the Prince of this town, with all the rabblement 
his attendants, by this gentleman named, are more 
fit for being in Hell than in this town or country; 
and so the Lord have mercy upon me. 

Well done, noble, resolute, fearless Faithful ! 
No doubt of death after such truth shot into the 
hearts of thine enemies ! Then was Faithful, after 
dreadful torments inflicted on him, burned to ashes 
at the stake, in the midst of the multitude. But 
behind the multitude there was a ravishing sight 
for any man whose eyes could have been opened 
to behold it, and which might have made any man 
willing to take Faithful's place at the stake for the 
sake of Faithful's place in glory afterwards. For 
there was a band of bright shining angels waiting 
for Faithful with a chariot and horses, in which, 
while the flames were yet cracking in the faggots 
which consumed his flesh to ashes, he was con- 
veyed with the sound of trumpets up through the 
clouds to the Celestial City. This sight was 
enough to make Christian wish that instead of 
taking him back to prison, they had burned him 
also on the spot. 

Now this is a most exquisitely beautiful sketch ; 
it is drawn to the life from many an era of pilgrim- 
age in this world; there are in it the materials 
of glory that constituted spirits of such noble 
greatness as are catalogued in the eleventh 
chapter of the epistle to the Hebrews ; trials 



870 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

of cruel mockings and scourgings, bonds and 
imprisonments, such as tortured and hardened the 
frames of men of whom the world was not worthy. 
Such was the stuff and discipline out of which the 
race of primitive Christians were moulded ; and 
very much such was also the era of pilgrimage on 
which Bunyan himself had fallen. But is it an 
equally true sketch of the pilgrimage in our day ? 
Is the world now regarded so much a wilderness 
and a world of enmity against God as it was 1 Cer- 
tainly the pilgrims are now regarded with more 
favor. Is this because the world has grown kinder, 
better, more disposed towards godliness, or is it 
because the Pilgrims have grown less strict in their 
mariners, less peculiar in their language, and more 
accommodating and complying with the usages of 
Vanity Fair? Or is it from both these causes to- 
gether, that the path of the pilgrimage seems so 
much easier now than it was formerly 1 

It is true that the more Christians there are in 
the world, the more delightful will this pilgrimage 
become, the fewer external enemies and difficulties 
will there be to be fought and conquered. There 
might be such a revival of religion in Vanity Fair 
itself, as should convert all its inhabitats, so that 
even my Lord Hategood would have to lay aside 
his name with his nature, and Malice and Envy 
would be changed into Love. Then would the 
lion lie down with the lamb, and the leopard would 
eat straw like the ox, and a little child might pass 
in white robes through Vanity Fair unhurt, un- 
soiled. Then would the merchandise of the 
Fair be changed, and no longer would the answer 



IN VANITY FAIR. 371 

of the Pilgrims, We buy the truth, be deemed such 
a strange and barbarous answer ; but godliness 
would be considered as gain, and not gain as godli- 
ness. That the world is coming into such a 
grand climacteric of innocence, happiness and 
glory, there is no doubt, just in proportion as the 
gospel prevails, and the number of real believers is 
multiplied. 

There is, however, an era of nominal Chris- 
tianity. Vanity Fair itself may be full of profound 
pilgrims, and the pilgrimage itself may be held in 
high esteem, and yet the practice of the pilgrimage, 
as Christian and Faithful followed it, may almost 
have gone out of existence. With the increase 
of nominal Christians there is always an increase 
of conformity to the world ; and the world appears 
better than it did to Christians, not so much 
because it has changed, as because they have 
changed ; the wild beasts and the tame ones dwell 
together, not so much because the leopards eat 
straw like the ox, as because the ox eats flesh 
like the leopard. Ephraim, he hath mixed him- 
self among the people ; the people have not come 
over to Ephraim, but Ephraim has gone over to 
them ; the people hath not learned the ways of 
Ephraim, but Epbraim hath learned the manners 
of the people. This is too much the case in the 
Vanity Fair of the world at the present time ; 
there is not such a marked and manifest distinction 
between the church and the world as there should 
be ; their habits, maxims, opinions, pursuits, 
amusements, whole manner of life, are too much 
the same ; so that the Pilgrims in our day have 

48 



872 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

lost the character of a peculiar people, not so much 
because they have become vastly more numerous 
than formerly, as becase they have become con- 
formed to the world, not like strangers, but natives 
in Vanity Fair. The great temptations of the 
church in our day is that of entire, almost un- 
mingled worldliness ; formalism and worldliness 
are too sadly the types of our piety ; we are in 
imminent danger of forgetting that our life is a pil- 
grimage, and that this is not our rest. 

This being the case, what shall we say of this 
sketch of Vanity Fair, and of the treatment of the 
Pilgrims in it, as applied to ourselves, to the Vanity 
Fair of our own era in the world, and of the society 
around us 1 Do the Pilgrims of our day go as 
resolutely through Vanity Fair as Christian and 
Faithful did? It is true that in simplicity and 
godly sincerity, not with fleshly lusts, we, as they 
did, have our conversation in the world 1 Is our 
merchandise the truth, or do we, as they did not, 
stop to trade in Vanity Fair, cheapening its com- 
modities I And how many among us make Va- 
nity Fair the end of their pilgrimage \ 

Let the Dreamer lie down, and dream again in 
the wilderness of this world, and surely a great 
change would come over the spirit of his dream, 
and the coloring also. Or let a man stand by the 
Dreamer, and recount to him what has happened 
since he passed this way before, what changes in 
the progress of two hundred years. Listen to 
him, if you please, as he speaks of Vanity Fair in 
your day. His account is somewhat as follows : 

The town was much altered since Christian and 



IN VANITY FAIR. 373 

Faithful passed through it, and principally for 
the reason that a great multitude of Pilgrims 
who had set out on the pilgrimage had con- 
cluded, finding the air of the city much improved, 
and that by reason of the increase of refinement 
and knowledge among the inhabitants, the city 
itself was very profitable and pleasant to dwell 
in, to remain there for an indefinite season, and 
many of them for the residue of their lives. This 
began by some of them being allured to take part 
in the purchase and sale of the merchandise of the 
place, till at length a great part of the business 
came to be transacted by those who at first 
came to the place in the character of strangers 
and travellers to the Celestial City. They formed 
partnership with the natives and original owners 
of Vanity Fair, so that now no small part of the 
French Row, the German Row, and especially 
the English Row was carried on under the pro- 
fession of those who had thus settled in the place 
as Pilgrims. 

In process of time they had also appointed as 
Lord Mayor of the place a professor of the reli- 
gion of the Pilgrims, My Lord Know-the-World, 
whose grand entertainments and dinners, together 
with his courtly and affable manners, did much to 
render the name of the Pilgrims respectable, and to 
put the whole place on good terms with them. 
Nay, it was a pleasant thing to the citizens, 
that they could have so many of the Pilgrims to 
stay with them, still preserving the profession of 
their pilgrimage ; insomuch that at length it be- 
came fashionable among many of the native inha- 



374 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

bitants of the city to take the same name and pro- 
fession without having ever once set out on their 
travels towards the Celestial City. And I ob- 
served that what aided this greatly was a certain 
thing that had got in vogue, which I was told 
was considered by many as involving the whole 
essence of the pilgrimage, and securing all its 
benefits without the necessity of encountering its 
perils or labors, and which they called baptismal 
regeneration. There was also in the court end of 
the town a very large cathedral, builded of hewn 
stone, on which they had sculptured the image of 
the twelve apostles, and over the gate of it had 
engraven in large capitals these words, No church 
without a bishop. I was told that it was in this 
building chiefly that the ceremony which they 
called baptismal regeneration was performed ; and 
it was observable that most of those who en- 
tered this building and underwent the ceremonies 
there enacted, considered themselves safe for the 
Celestial City, although they had not Christian's 
roll, and never went a step beyond Vanity Fair. 

There was also no small part of the court end 
of the city where the houses had crosses upon 
them ; which I was told would prevent the growth 
of any such burden on the shoulders, as Christian 
had borne with so much difficulty. There were 
also in various parts of the city places of worship 
erected, called Chapels of Ease, where the music 
was so fine, and the seats were so softly and 
beautifully prepared, and all the ceremonies 
were so pleasant, that most of the inhabitants 
became church going people. In some of these 



IN VANITY FAIR. 375 

places I was told that great care was taken to 
smooth down the rough places in the gospel, and 
that no alarms were ever suffered to be given to 
the consciences of the people who came there, 
and also that all those fiends, by which Christian 
had been so much vexed and alarmed, were con- 
sidered as only imaginary beings, even Apollyon 
himself, and that the hell which had frightened so- 
many Pilgrims was regarded as a mere creation 
of the fancy. 

Moreover, Mr. Legality, from the town of Carnal 
Policy, had established a colony in this place, and, 
by the aid of Mr. Worldly Wiseman, had gained no 
small number of the Pilgrims, who had concluded 
to settle in Vanity Fair. I also observed that the 
Pilgrims had thrived greatly in their business, 
and that their houses were among the most taste- 
ful and costly buildings in the better parts of the 
city. When they first began to stop in Vanity 
Fair, they were of very small means, and of an 
humble exterior ; but by degrees they acquired 
property, and moved up into the more airy and 
fashionable parts of the place, where they thought 
it important to make the name and profession of 
Pilgrim respectable in the eyes of the inhabitants. 
Some of them had great share in the various stocks 
in Vanity Fair, and were appointed directors and 
presidents of its banks, and had built themselves 
fine houses, and kept up large establishments, such 
as formerly none but the native men of Vanity Fair 
could build or reside in. 

There was one Mr. Genteel, who at first came 
into the place very dusty and poor from his pil- 



376 CHRISTIAN AINU FAITHFUL 

grimage, (his name then being Rustic,) and had 
resolved only to remain long enough in Vanity 
Fair to better his circumstances a little, and then 
to set out again, but who had such a tide of worldly 
prosperity upon him, that he became very rich, put 
up one of the finest houses in the place, changed 
his name, and concluded to remain there indefi- 
nitely. There was another man, Mr. Worldly- 
Conformity, who followed this rich Pilgrim's 
example, and they two, together with some 
others in the same neighborhood, as Mr. Luke- 
Warm, Mr. Yielding, Mr. Indifferent, Mr. Expedi- 
ent, and their families, constituted some of the 
most fashionable society in the region. They 
were not outdone by any of the merchants or pro- 
fessional gentlemen or nobility of Vanity Fair in 
the costliness of their entertainments, and the rich- 
ness of their style of living. 

It is true that in some cases these professed 
Pilgrims were found to have gone beyond their 
means, and to have built houses and supported 
this expensive mode of life at the expense of 
other people; but this did not prevent others 
from similar extravagance ; and at length the 
world's people, as the original inhabitants at Va- 
nity Fair were called, and the population of the 
Pilgrims, could not at all be distinguished, the Pil- 
grims having ceased to be a peculiar people, and 
engaging in the the same amusements and pursuits 
as were generally deemed reputable. The Pil- 
grims being so prosperous and well-esteemed, you 
may readily suppose there were very few new 
comers but were persuaded to settle down in the 



IN VANITY FAIR. 577 

same way, very few indeed, who, like Christian 
and Faithful, of old, went strait through Vanity 
Faii% and would not be turned aside from their pil- 
grimage. Some who staid in the town retained the 
recollection of their pilgrim life a longer and some a 
shorter time than others, and some would be ever 
and anon preparing to set out again ; but there 
were certain persons of influence in the place, as 
Mr. Self-indulgence, Mr. Love-of-Ease, Mr. Crea- 
ture-Comfort, Mr. Indolence, my Lord Procrasti- 
nate, and my Lord Time- Serving, who, with fair 
speeches, did generally contrive to detain them, 
even to the day of their death. So that it was 
rare that any of those, who stopped and became 
entangled in the cares and pleasures of life and 
business in Vanity Fair, ever again set out on pil- 
grimage. I have heard, however, that many of 
them, when they came to die, were found in great 
gloom and distress, and could get no peace what- 
ever, crying out continually, O that I had never 
ceased to be a Pilgrim. 

There were some that had very grand country 
seats, and spent their time in farming and gar- 
dening in the summer, and were very busy at the 
Fair in large business operations in the winter. 
Some of these men were accustomed to give con- 
siderable sums to certain benevolent societies that 
were in the place, and also they w T ould, as occasion 
offered, preside at their meetings, and give them 
countenance by their names. Nor was there any 
want of such societies now in Vanity Fair, for 
many persons seemed to think that the patronizing 
of such societies rendered it unnecessary for them- 



378 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

selves to go on pilgrimage. There were also many 
good books published in the place, and what 
seemed not a little surprising, the lives of some 
of the most noted Pilgrims who had passed 
through Vanity Fair were put forth, and were 
greatly admired even by some of those who had 
settled in Vanity Fair because of its merchandise. 
There were also persons who might be heard to 
speak much of the necessity of living as strangers 
and pilgrims in the world, who, nevertheless, kept 
immense warehouses in English Row and French 
Row, and were very busy in increasing their es- 
tates and beautifying their establishments. 

From all these things you may conclude that 
whereas in Christian and Faithful's time the very 
name of a Pilgrim was enough to bring odium 
and disgrace, if not persecution, upon the men 
who entered the town in that character, it was 
now considered a very reputable thing, some of 
the very best society in Vanity Fair holding it in 
such esteem that the persecution of Faithful was 
now thought to be the greatest disgrace that had 
ever befallen the inhabitants. The Cage, in 
which the Pilgrims were once confined as mad- 
men, was now never used, and some said that it 
had been broken in pieces, but others said that 
it had been consecrated for church purposes, 
and put under the Cathedral, in a deep cell, 
from which it might again be brought forth, if 
occasion required it. The old Lord of the Fair 
also, seeing how things were going on, now very 
seldom came thither in person, and was well con- 
tent, it is said, to have the people appoint for their 



IN VANTTY FAIR. 379 

mayors and judges persons who had either been 
Pilgrims themselves or greatly favored that part of 
the population. 

There was another very singular thing, that 
had happened in process of time ; for a part of 
the Pilgrims who remained in Vanity Fair began 
to visit the Cave of Giant Pope, which, you 
remember, lay at no great distance from the town, 
so, instead of going farther towards the Celestial 
City, there became a fashionable sort of pilgrimage 
to that Cave. They brushed up the Giant, and 
gave him medicines to alleviate the hurts from 
those bruises which he had received in his youth ; 
and to make the place pleasanter, they carefully 
cleared away the remains of the bones and skulls 
of burned Pilgrims, and planted a large enclo- 
sure with flowers and evergreens. 

When this was done, they even denied that there 
had ever been any such cruelties practised, as were 
demonstrated by the bones, when Christian and 
Faithful passed by. The Cave also they adorned, 
and let in just so much light upon it, as made 
it appear romantic and sacred, so that some Pil- 
grims, who came at first only to see the ceremonies, 
were so much attracted by them as to join in them. 

What greatly aided to render this pilgrimage 
fashionable, was a large saloon erected about half- 
way between Vanity Fair and the Cave, where 
much good society from Vanity Fair were accus- 
tomed to stop for refreshment and social converse, 
where also they had little hermitages and altars, 
and a certain intoxicating refreshment, called, 
Tracts for the Times, the effect of which was 
49 



380 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

to make them feel, while pursuing their way to 
the Cave, as if they were stepping towards heaven. 
It was said also that there was an underground 
passage all the way between this Cave and the 
Cathedral, of which I have spoken, in Vanity Fair, 
where the twelve apostles were sculptured in stone, 
and the Cage was secreted ; but this passage I 
never examined. 

Is this a true or false report of some among many 
things that might be named in the state of society, 
and the reputation of the Christian pilgrimage 
now, in Vanity Fair 1 We will leave Conscience to 
answer this question, and pass on to the very in- 
structive and exquisitely satirical sketches of cha- 
racter introduced by Bunyan, after Hopeful, rising 
out of Faithful's ashes, had joined Christian in the 
way. The martyrdom of Faithful had kindled a 
light in Vanity Fair that would not easily be put 
out, and many there were that by his example 
would themselves, as Hopeful did, become Pil- 
grims. So, by the death of one to bear testimony 
to the truth, many were affected by that testimony, 
whose hearts might otherwise have remained hard- 
ened to the end of life. Fox's Book of Martyrs, 
with the story of Latimer and Ridley, it must be 
remembered, was one of three books that consti- 
tuted Bunyan's Prison Library. 

There now pass before us in the Pilgrim's Pro- 
gress a series of characters sketched with inimita- 
ble power and beauty, of whom Mr. By-ends is the 
most remarkable, standing for a class of men of no 
small number and influence. He got his estate by 
looking one way and rowing another, and he and 



IN VANITY FAIR. 381 

his family, friends and relations, differed from the 
stricter sort in religion only in two small points ; 
first, never striving against wind and water, and 
second, being always for Religion in his silver slip- 
pers, loving much to walk with him in the streets, 
of a sunshiny day, when the people applauded. 
It is very clear that there could be little or no com- 
munion between this man and Christian and Hope- 
ful ; for By-ends would hold to his own principles, 
they being, as he said, harmless and profitable, 
whereas the principles of Christian and Hopeful 
were in his view unnecessarily striet and rigid, 
compelling them to walk with Religion in rags and 
contempt, as well as in sunshine and silver slippers. 
When therefore they had met and conversed a little 
they soon separated, and speedily after Christian 
had asked Mr. By-ends what was his name. 

But now By-ends meets a trio of more conge- 
nial companions, Mr. Hold-the-Worid, Mr. Money- 
Love, and Mr. Save-all, the whole of them having 
formerly been schoolmates under Mr. Gripe-man, 
n the town of Love-Gain. Their schoolmaster had 
taught them, among other things, the art of gaining 
by putting on the guise of Religion ; and Bunyan 
seems to have designated in these men the charac- 
ters of base, arrant cheats and hypocrites. Their 
conversation with one another is a most amusing 
piece of satire, developing the sheer worldliness 
and selfishness of their principles, and the argu- 
ments by which such men justify the service of God 
and Mammon. The speech of Mr. Hold-the-World 
is admirably characteristic, and for its string of 
earthly proverbs, with the selfish sagacity of which 



382 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

they are all the exponent, it rivals all the delinea- 
tions of Sancho Panza, by Cervantes. Hold-the- 
World is indeed the very essence and personifica- 
tion of low worldly wisdom, and what is worse, he 
carries it all under the guise of piety ; in this, it is 
to be feared, constituting an example of the real 
character of many who would not be willing to 
acknowledge such principles, either to themselves 
or others. 

" For my own part," said he, " I can count him 
but a fool, who, having the liberty to keep what he 
has, shall be so unwise as to lose it. Let us be 
wise as serpents; it is best to make hay while 
the sun shines : you see how the bee lieth still in 
winter, and bestirs her only when she can have 
profit with pleasure. God sends sometimes rain 
and sometimes sunshine : if they be such fools to 
go through the first, yet let us be content to take 
fair weather along with us. For my part, I like that 
religion best that will stand with the security of 
God's good blessings unto us ; for who can imagine, 
that is ruled by his reason, since God has bestowed 
upon us the good things of this life, but that he 
would have us keep them for his sake ? Abraham 
and Solomon grew rich in religion ; and Job says 
that "a good man shall lay up gold as dust." But 
he must not be such as Christian and Hopeful, 
added Hold-the- World, if they be such rigid sim- 
pletons as you have described them. 

Then By-ends proposed this question; suppose 
a man, a minister or a tradesman, &c, should have 
an advantage lie before him to get the good bles- 
sings of this life, yet so as that he can by no means 



IN VANITY FAIR. 383 

come by them, except, in appearance at least, he 
becomes extraordinary zealous in some points of 
religion that he meddled not with before ; may he 
not use this means to obtain this end, and yet be a 
right honest man 1 

Mr. Money-Love undertook to answer this ques- 
tion, and the crooked policy of his conclusions 
jumped well, you may be sure, with the minds of 
his companions, first concerning ministers, second 
concerning tradesmen. Dr. Palev would have 
done well to have read over this chapter in Bun- 
yan before composing some of the chapters in his 
Moral Philosophy, and his sermon on the Utility 
of Distinctions in the Ministry. The philosophy 
of Money-Love and By-ends is that which the 
god of this world teaches all his votaries, and, alas, 
when motives come to be scrutinized, as they will 
be, at the bar of God, how much of our apparent 
good will be found to be evil, because in the root 
that nourished both the branches and the fruit, 
there was found to be nothing but self-interest 
carefully concealed. You seek me, not because of 
the miracles to be witnessed, or the grace to be 
gained, but because ye did eat of the loaves, and 
w r ere filled. 

" Suppose a minister," said Mr. Money-Love, " a 
very worthy man man, possessed but of a very small 
benefice, and has in his eye a greater, more plump 
and fat by far : he has also now an opportunity of 
getting it, yet, so as by being more studious, by 
preaching more frequent and zealously, and because 
the temper of the people requires it, by altering of 
some of his principles : for my part, I see no reason 



384 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

why a man may not do this, provided he has a call, 
yea, and more a great deal besides, and yet be an 
honest man. For why 1 

1. His desire of a greater benefice is lawful ; 
this cannot be contradicted, since it is set before 
him by Providence ; so then he may get it if 
he can, making no question for conscience' sake. 

2. Because his desire after that benefice makes 
him more studious, a more zealous preacher, &c., 
and so makes him a better man, yea, makes him 
better improve his parts ; which is according to 
the mind of God. 

3. Now, as to his complying with the temper of 
his people, by deserting, to serve them, some of his 
principles, this argueth : (1.) that he is of a self- 
denying temper ; (2.) of a sweet and winning 
deportment ; and (3.) so more fit for the minis- 
terial function. 

I conclude, then, that a minister who changes a 
small for a great, should not, for so doing, be 
judged as covetous ; but rather, since he is im- 
proved in his parts and industry thereby, be counted 
as one that pursues his call, and the opportunity 
put into his hands to do good. 

And now to the second part of the question, 
which concerns the tradesman you mentioned; 
suppose such an one to have but a poor employ 
in the world, but by becoming religious he may 
mend his market, perhaps get a rich wife, or more 
and far better customers to his shop ; for my part, 
I see no reason but this may be lawfully done ; for 
why ? 



IN VANITY FAIR. 385 

1. To become religious is a virtue, by what 
means soever a man becomes so. 

2. Nor is it unlawful to get a rich wife, or better 
customers to my shop. 

1. Besides, the man that gets these by becoming 
religious, gets that which is good, of them that are 
good, by becoming good himself; so then, here is 
a good wife, and good customers, and good gain, 
and all this by becoming religious, which is good ; 
therefore, to become religious, to get all these, is a 
good and profitable design." 

Now is not this logic of Money-Love very bare- 
faced ? And yet these men considered it perfectly 
triumphant, and an argument that Christian and 
Hopeful could not possibly contradict. Whereupon 
they resolved to propound the same question to 
them, and so puzzle and defeat them. But to their 
astonishment, Christian declared at once that none 
others than heathens, hypocrites, devils, and 
witches could be of their opinion, and then he 
went on to prove this so clearly and powerfully 
out of Scripture, with instances in point, that the 
men were completely staggered, and stood staring 
one upon another, unable to answer a word. What, 
said Christian to Hopeful, will these men do with 
the sentence of God, if they cannot stand before the 
sentence of men l 

This passage in the pilgrimage is full of instruc- 
tion, and we might dwell long upon it, and upon 
the danger of evil motives under the guise of a 
good cause, or of unholy motives in a holy cause. 
The motive is every thing ; it makes the man. An 
eye single makes a single-minded man: an eye 



386 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

double makes a double-minded man. An eye 
single is good in whatever a man undertakes, 
considered even merely in reference to the things 
of this life, and as requisite to decision of character. 
In this view the children of this world are wiser in 
their generation than the children of light ; what 
they do for this world they do with energy and 
whole-heartedness, which is just what, as Pilgrims, 
we want for Christ. We want, in all things, an eye 
single for God, for his approbation, for his glory, 
and this is the precious motive that excludes every 
other, or keeps every other subordinate, and turns 
every thing to gold. " Whatsoever ye do, do it 
heartily, as to the Lord, and not as unto men." 
The very drudgery and toilsomness of our pil- 
grimage is turned into a divine and holy service, 
by this precious singleness of heart for Christ ! 
Oh how desirable is this in every thing ! This is the 
body of that beautiful composition by Herbert, 
which is perhaps the best series of stanzas he ever 
wrote, entitled, The Elixir, It is good to drink this 
on our pilgrimage, especially after such a conversa- 
tion with By-ends and Money-Love. By ends are 
almost always bad ends, but love to Christ, sin- 
gleness of heart for Christ, sets them at a distance, 
and shows them at once in their native hypocrisy 
and deformity. 

Teach me, my God and King, 

In all things Thee to see, 
And what I do in any thing, 

To do it as for thee. 

Not rudely, as a beast, 

To run into an action ; 
But still to make Thee prepossest, 

And give it Thy perfection. 



IN VANITY FAIR. 387 

A man that look* on glass 

On it may stay his eye ; 
And if he pleaseth, through it pass, 

And then the heaven espy. 

All may of Thee partake ; 

Nothing can be so mean, 
Which with this tincture for thy sake, 

Will not grow bright and clean. 

A servant with this clause, 

Makes drudgery divine : 
Who sweeps a room as for thy laws, 

Makes that and the action fine. 

This is the famous stone, 

That turneth all to gold ; 
For that which God doth touch and own 

Cannot for less be told. 



Now we must go on with our Pilgrims. They 
had now a short interval of pleasant going, over 
a plain called Ease, but it was soon passed, and 
again they entered into danger. Bunyan has put 
in the margin, The ease that Pilgrims have in 
this life is short. The temptations which they 
now encountered was that of filthy lucre, for they 
came to a silver mine in the side of a hill, and 
were invited by a very gentlemanly man, Demas 
to turn aside for a little, and examine this mine, 
and perhaps undertake a small speculation for 
themselves. Hopeful was for going, but Christian 
held him back, while he examined Demas, who 
declared that the working in this mine was not 
very dangerous except to those who were careless. 
There are many Pilgrims who reason thus, or are 
ensnared by such reasoning. They think that if 
other men have perished by the love of money, it 
was because they went too far ; but for themselves, 
they mean just to enter the mine, dig a little, and 
50 



388 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

then come out again, satisfied to have neither pover- 
ty nor riches. But this is a temptation, where one 
step draws on another, so that no man can tell 
how far he is going ; and the damps in this mine 
are such, that the further men go in, the greater 
danger they encounter, and the more incapacitated 
they are from turning back. For they that will 
be rich, fall into temptation, and a snare, and 
into many foolish and hurtful lusts, which drown 
men in destruction and perdition. For the love 
of money is the root of all evil ; which, while some 
coveted after, they have erred from the faith, and 
pierced themselves through with many sorrows. 

In our day there are many such hills Lucre, and 
such men Demas, to be encountered in our pilgrim- 
age. But the air of the mines, it is observable, is in 
all those regions, and the Pilgrims who turn aside, 
generally get so infected with it that they are ever 
after either greatly hindered and weakened in their 
course, or entirely disabled from pursuing their 
pilgrimage. There are also certain wild lands 
stretching of! behind the hill Lucre, where some 
Pilgrims wandering in search of treasure have 
lost their way, and never been heard of more. By 
divine grace the vigilance of Christian carried 
him and Hopeful past this danger, though By- 
ends and all his company went into the mine at 
the first invitation from Demas, and these men 
were never more seen on their pilgrimage. 

The habits of conformity to the world in Chris- 
tians, and the love of money in the church of 
Christ, are the two forms of sin and danger 
especially brought to view in this portion of the 



IN VANITY FAIR. 389 

Pilgrim's Progress. There are certain passages of 
Scripture, certain declarations of our blessed Lord, 
which are " sharp arrows in the hearts of the King's 
enemies" on these subjects. What shall it profit a 
man, if he gain the whole world, and lose his own 
soul I This is a sum in profit and loss, which it 
will take eternity to cypher out. Therefore let no 
man try it ; leave it to the Saviour. Turn you to 
him and say, Lord thou knowest ; thou knowest 
perfectly what the soul is, and what eternity is, and 
I do not know either ; and what it is to lose the 
soul, God grant I may never know. Lord keep me 
from making this experiment. And yet, there are 
multitudes who are making it, multitudes who are 
playing at this game, working at this sum in 
arithmetic, What shall it profit a man if he gain 
the whole world, and lose his own soul? This is 
the arithmetic of a great part of the world in 
Vanity Fair. Now you may gain the world if 
you seek it. Its comforts, luxuries, sinful plea- 
sures, may be yours, if you be willing to barter 
your soul for them ; they almost always come at 
that price ; so you may gain the world, you may 
know what that part of the sum is ; but what it 
is to lose the soul, that computation you are to 
make, that column you are to add up, in eternity ; 
and that is an experiment which you cannot make 
but by making it forever. 

Then there is that other passage, Ye cannot serve 
God and Mammon ? Cannot! Yea, cannot ; it is an 
absolute impossibility. Then the life of a great 
many persons is a perpetual strife after what is 
impossible, for many are striving to serve God 



390 CHRISTIAN AND FAITHFUL 

and Mammon. Hard working people they are ; 
there are no greater drudges in the word, than 
those By-ends and Money-Loves and Demases, 
who, in the Christian church, are working away 
at this problem, to serve God and Mammon. 
That also is a tremendous sentence, It is easier for 
a camel to go through the eye of a needle than, 
for a rich man to enter the kingdom of Heaven. 
"Often as the motley reflexes of my experience move 
in long processions of manifold groups before me," 
says a great writer, and certainly not a cynical man, 
Mr. Coleridge, " the distinguished and world- 
honored company of Christian Mammonists ap- 
pear to the eye of my imagination as a drove of 
camels heavily laden, yet all at full speed, and 
each in the confident expectation of passing 
through the eye of the needle, without stop or 
halt, both beasts and baggage !" From such sad 
and fearful madness may the grace of our God 
deliver us! 

Fulness to such a burden is 

Who go on pilgrimage ; 
Here little, and hereafter bliss, 

Is best from age to age. 



DOUBTING CASTLE 



AND 



GIANT DESPAIR 



Beauty and wisdom of this delineation. — Many ways of getting into this Castle. — 
Only one way to get out. — By-Path Meadow and its Allurements. — Enjoyment of 
Christian and Hopeful before they went into it. — Their discontent with the rough- 
ness of the King's highway.— Their four errors. — Their sleep amidst the storm, and 
the discovery of them by Giant Despair. — Their treatment and behaviour in the 
Castle — A Sabbath morning in prayer. — Discovery of the Key of Promise. — Their 
escape. — The mercy and faithfulness of God in Christ. — Consequences of the 
hiding of God's countenance. — Misery of being without God in Eternity. — Solemn 
Realities of this Allegory. 

We are coming now upon a scene in this pil- 
grimage, which is drawn from the experience of 
all travellers towards the Celestial City, and is in a 
greater or less degree familiar to them all. What 
Pilgrim does not know Doubting Castle, kept by 
Giant Despair? Its huge keeps and moss-grown 
frowning battlements rise before us almost as 
familiar as the Wicket Gate ; and what Pilgrims 
are there, that have not, at some time or another, 
seen the inside of the Castle 1 They may not all 
have seen Giant Despair in person, but his wife 
Diffidence they have met with, and the under- 
keepers of his prison. They may not all have 
been thrown into the same horrible dungeon where 
Christian and Hopeful were confined, nor visited 
51 



392 DOUBTING CASTLE 

by the Giant with temptations to make way with 
themselves in their misery . but in some cell or 
another they have had to bewail their sins, and to 
groan and suffer by reason of unbelieving doubts 
and fears. So, though the Dreamer, in the 
second part of his Pilgrim's Progress, gives an 
account of the destruction of the Castle, and the 
death of the Giant, yet no man believes that he is 
dead, and still from day to day the Pilgrims are 
straying into his grounds, and finding to their cost 
the depth and terror of his prisons. Giant Despair 
will never die, so long as unpardoned sin remains, 
or a sense of it burdens the conscience ; nor is 
there any security against falling into his hands, but 
in the care and mercy of One who is mightier than 
he, even Christ Jesus. 

The personification of Despair is one of the most 
instructive and beautiful portions of Bunyan's Alle- 
gory. It appeals either to every man's experience, 
or to every man's prophetic sense of what may 
come upon him on account of sin. It is at once in 
some respects the very gloomiest and very bright- 
est part of the Pilgrim's Progress ; for it shows at 
once to what a depth of misery sin may plunge the 
Christian, and also to what a depth the mercy of 
God in Christ may reach. The coloring of the 
picture is extremely vivid, the remembrance of it 
can never pass from the mind ; and as in a gallery 
of beautiful paintings, there may often be one that 
;SO strongly reminds you of your own experience, 
and carries you back into past life with such 
power, or that in itself is so remarkably beautiful, 
as to chain you before it in admiration, and keep 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 393 

you dwelling upon if with unabated interest, so it 
is with this delineation of Giant Despair, among the 
many admirable sketches of Bunyan's piety and 
genius. It is so full of deep life and meaning that 
you cannot exhaust it, and it is of such exquisite 
propriety and beauty that you are never tired with 
examining it. 

It is easy for fallen beings to get into Doubting 
Castle ; conviction of sin, unaccompanied by a 
sense of the mercy of Christ, will take any man 
there at once ; and the last possession and abode 
of the soul hardened in sin and abandoned of God 
must be Despair. There are many ways in which 
even a Christian may come there. Some men 
enter by unbelief, and whatever state of mind or 
habit of sin shuts out the Saviour, is sure to bring 
a man there at once. Some men enter by pride 
and self-righteousness ; if a man trust in his own 
merits, instead of the blood and righteousness of 
Christ for justification, he may seem for a time to 
be at large, but when he comes to know his own 
state, the bars of the prison will be round about 
him, and Giant Despair will be his keeper. 

Some men enter this Castle by habits of self- 
indulgence, some by particular cherished sins, 
some by dallying with temptations, some by sud- 
den falling into deep sins, some by neglect of 
watchfulness and prayer, some by a gradual creep- 
ing coldness and stupor in the things of religion, 
the dangerous spirit of slumber not being guarded 
against and resisted. Some get into this prison by 
natural gloom and despondency of mind, of which 
Satan takes an advantage; others by brooding over 



394 



DOUBTING CASTLE. 



the threatenings, and neglecting the promises ; 
others by going to penances and duties for the 
relief of conscience, and not to Christ. Neglect of 
duty takes most men to prison, but duties them- 
selves may bring us there if we trust in duties for 
acceptance, and not in Christ. Neglect of God's 
Word will take men to this prison, and leaning to 
one's own understanding. Distorted views of 
divine truth, speculative error, and the habit of spe- 
culation rather than of faith and life in divine 
things may shut up the soul in darkness. Some 
get into this prison by spiritual sins, others by 
sensual ; some by the lusts of the flesh, some by 
the lust of the eyes, some by the pride of life ; 
some by confqrmity to the world, and obedience to 
fashion ; some by the pressure of business, others 
by the cares of life and the deceitfulness of riches ; 
they that will be rich are always on the way to this 
Castle, if not in it. 

There is a way to this Castle from the Arbour 
on the Hill Difficulty, and also from the Enchanted 
Ground, if a man sleeps there and loses his roll, and 
then, instead of going to Christ, pursues his jour- 
ney without it. And if a Christian, when he has 
sinned against God, stays away from him, and 
keeps silence towards him, then he will be so 
shut up and beaten in this prison, that his bones 
will wax old through his roaring all the day long. 
This was once the case with David. David fell 
into this Castle by gross sin, and fearfully was he 
handled by Giant Despair. Asaph fell into this 
Castle by doubting and complaining of God's un- 
equal dealings with the righteous and the wicked, 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 395 

so that he was as a beast before God. Job fell 
into this Castle by taking a wrong view of God's 
chastisements, and he only got out by this saying ; I 
know that my Redeemer liveth. 

A child of God may fall into this Castle by making 
a wrong use, or rather by not making a right use of 
trials, by not receiving them as a child should receive 
the corrections of a father. A repining disposition 
will very quickly bring the soul into this prison. 
Jonah fell into this prison by running away from 
known duty, and preferring his own will to God's 
will. He went down to the bottoms of the moun- 
tains, so that he had to cry out of the belly of hell; 
and God heard his voice. Thomas fell into the Cas- 
tle by obstinate unbelief, so that all the prayers and 
tears of his fellow disciples could not bring him out, 
and he came out only by that gracious voice of the 
Saviour, Be not faithless but believing ! Peter 
fell into this Castle, about the same time, and wept 
bitterly, and it was nothing but the mercy of the 
same Saviour that brought him out. Satan would 
have kept him there, had it not been for that 
wonderful prayer of the Saviour before-hand, I 
have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not. 

Alas ! alas ! how many ways there are of getting 
into this gloomy prison ! Oh, if Christ be not al- 
ways with the soul, or if at any time it go 
astray from him, or if its reliance be on any thing 
whatever but his mercy, his blood, his grace, then 
is it near the gloom of this Dungeon ; then may 
Giant Despair be heard walking in his grounds, 
and verily the echo of his footsteps oftentimes 
falls upon the soul before the grim form rises on 



396 DOUBTING CASTLE 

the vision. And some who have once entered the 
Castle have staid there a great while, because they 
have tried many other means of escape, than by 
the blood of Christ ; because they have used pick- 
locks, and penances, and stratagems, and the help 
of friends outside the Castle, but not the Key 
of Promise, or not aright, not throwing them- 
selves on the Saviour alone for pardon, peace 
and justification. A man who gets into difficulty 
through sin, will never get out by self-righteous- 
ness, nor are past sins, nor the burden of them, to 
be ever removed by present morality ; nothing but 
Faith, nothing but the precious blood of Christ, 
can take away sin, can remove the stain of it, 
can deliver the soul from its condemnation. 

Perhaps, notwithstanding there are so many 
examples of great sins bringing men into his 
power, yet, with the majority of Christians, it 
is little sins neglected, and sins of omission, 
and duties undone, that shut them up in Doubt- 
ing Castle, kept by Giant Despair. Duties un- 
done are in reality great sins, but they do not 
strike the conscience with such immediate terror 
as open sins, and therefore perhaps they are the 
more dangerous. The soul gets sadly accus- 
tomed to such neglects, and there is always 
some plausible excuse in the first instance, in 
the beginnings, a man being always determined 
to repair the neglect immediately ; but it soon 
grows into a habit, and then the conscience ceases 
to be so tender on that point, and at length there 
comes to be such an accumulation of neglects and 
omissions, that there is no computing them. 



AIND GIANT DESPAIR. 397 

Now, when this is the case, and yet a man 
attempts to keep on in his Christian course, 
beneath the burden of such neglect of duty, he 
is much like a man who lias failed in business 
under a heavy load of debt, and attempts to set 
up again before his creditors have released him, 
so that if at any time they come upon him, all 
his new earnings are gone at once, and he is 
penniless. So a Christian without coming to a 
reckoning with himself and Christ concerning: 
such neglects of duty, and such habits of neg- 
lect, may think he is going on well, but the 
moment a sense of these sins comes to him, he 
finds himself in the grounds of Giant Despair, 
and is taken away to his Castle, and there he has 
to bewail his guilt and misery, sometimes many 
days before mercy comes to him. And never can 
he find mercy, but by casting himself, with all his 
accumulation and burden of sins upon Christ. 
And oh what mercy it is to be reclaimed from 
such habits of neglect to a habit of watchfulness, 
even at the expense of ever so many days and 
nights in this Castle ! Better by far to be seized 
by Giant Despair while mercy may be sought, 
while Christ is, as it were, yet within hearing, 
than to be left to go on at ease amidst neglects of 
duty, and to become hardened in sin without 
meeting- the Giant, without being wakened to a 
sense of guilt by his black countenance and his 
heavy club. Men sometimes neglect secret prayer 
for present business or pleasure ; this is getting 
over the stile, and taking a few steps in By-Path 
Meadow ; then a few steps farther are taken, and 



398 DOUBTING CASTLE 

thus gradually the soul gets farther and farther 
from God, from Christ, from grace, from duty, 
and duty becomes more difficult, and the allure- 
ments of By-Path Meadow more dangerous, per- 
haps openly sinful ; and then the night and storm 
come on, and in the morning, Giant Despair, 
prowling about his grounds, takes the trespassers, 
and shuts them under lock and key in his dungeon. 
The pursuit of duty, though it be the way of 
self-denial, is without doubt the only way of peace 
and safety. But some Pilgrims get into Doubting 
Castle by neglecting one set of duties while they 
perform others. In all our callings there are 
some duties more difficult than others, and some 
that are more pleasing to our natural inclina- 
tions. A merchant or tradesman loves to be 
diligent in his business, and all the active duties 
and even great fatigue in the course of it, are yet 
pleasing to him ; but the Word of God and 
prayer are not so naturally pleasing to him, and 
spiritual fatigue is not so readily encountered 
by him. A farmer loves the external occupations 
of his farm, and he must make hay while the sun 
shines, and he is not likely to get into By-Path 
Meadow by neglecting the making of his hay ; but 
it is not so natural for him to pray, and he may 
possibly get into Doubting Castle by neglecting 
his prayers in August, that he may get in his hay 
in its season during the fair weather. A minister, 
who loves more to study, or to visit, than to pray, 
finds it very easy to study but very hard to pray ; 
sometimes his very sermons may so occupy him, 
that he too may think he has not present time 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 399 

for prayer ; nevertheless, by neglects and omissions 
in any way, he may fall into Doubting Castle, kept 
by Giant Despair. A prudent, busy house-wife 
may love much better to be like Martha, anxious 
and troubled about many things, bustling and busy 
from morning till night, than to be like Mary, 
sitting at the feet of Jesus. Domestic avoca- 
tions often constitute a By-Path Meadow, where 
spiritual duties are neglected, and so the soul 
wanders into the regions of Giant Despair. 

The delineation of By-Path Meadow, with the 
experience of the Pilgrims in it, is very affecting 
and very beautiful. Every man knows what By- 
Path Meadow means, as well as what Doubting 
Castle signifies. In general, some habit or mode 
of self-indulgence, some shrinking back from the 
hardness of the pilgrimage, and some departure 
from its duties, for indulgence to the flesh, is 
here shadowed forth. But it is observable that 
just before the Pilgrims wandered from the right 
way into this Meadow they had a season of great 
delight in the Word of God, great enjoyment in 
their Christian pilgrimage. After by divine grace 
they had been delivered from the temptations of 
Demas, they had sweet communion with God, 
reviving communications of the Holy Spirit, rich 
draughts from the Water of Life, delightful views 
of the preciousness of Christ, and such green 
pastures, such quiet meadows, with lillies and 
still waters, that it seemed as if all their conflicts 
were over, and they had nothing to do but to enjoy 
these abundant consolations. The passage in 
which Bunyan has descibed these earnests of the 

52 



400 DOUBTING CASTLE 

Spirit, these sweet foretastes of the heavenly rest, 
comprehends one of the most ravishing intervals 
in the experience of Christian and Hopeful. 

" I saw then," says Banyan, " that they went on 
their way to a pleasant river, which David the King 
called the River of God, but John, the River of the 
Water of Life. Now their way lay just upon 
bank of the River ; here therefore Christian and 
his companion walked with great delight ; they 
drank also of the water of the river, which was 
pleasant and enlivening to their weary spirits. 
Besides, on the banks of the river, on either 
side, were green trees with all manner of fruit ; 
and the leaves they ate to prevent surfeits, and 
other diseases that are incident to those that heat 
their blood by travels. On either side of the 
river was also a meadow, curiously beautified with 
lillies ; and it was green all the year long. In this 
meadow they lay down and slept, for here they 
might lie down safely. When they awoke, they 
gathered again of the fruit of the trees, and drank 
again of the water of the river, and they lay down 
again to sleep. Thus they did several days and 
nights." 

Here was a season of deep and exquisite enjoy- 
ment in the Word of God, and the exercises of the 
Divine Life. How could the Pilgrims turn aside 
from it so soon 1 Perhaps it was by forgetting 
the Saviour's purpose in granting these enjoy- 
ments, taking that for their rest which was only 
meant to add to their holiness, and prepare them 
for labor. The truth is, that the active duties of 
the Christian pilgrimage are never in themselves 



AND GTANT DESPAIR. 401 

so delightful as tlu River of the Water of Life 
flowing through the soul; that is, they require self- 
denial, and are attended with difficulty. When 
the affections are drawn out after Christ, and are 
warm towards God and heaven, and all external 
things go pleasantly, how easy and how sweet it is 
to wander up and down along the banks of the 
River, treading the soft grass, eating the wholsome 
and delicious fruits, and breathing the fragrance of 
the flowers. Do we not sometimes have such 
seasons 1 But they are given to us, as the Arbor 
was in the midst of the Hill Difficulty, not for 
indulgence to the flesh, but to invigorate and 
prepare us for active duty ; not to constitute a rest, 
which we may quietly enjoy, but to fit us for 
remaining toil, for increasing activity and use- 
fulness. 

Now, then, if the Pilgrims think too much of 
these comforts, if they are rather seeking after 
spiritual enjoyment, than for usefulness and 
growth in grace by active discipline and duty, it is 
possible that spiritual enjoyments themselves may 
become a snare, making the Pilgrim unwilling to 
separate from such a blessed quietness of life, 
when the pilgrimage leads to a rougher road, 
w T here the river and the road part for a season. 
To read the Bible and to pray are easy duties, 
even for weak Christians, when the heart is full of 
love, and God's countenance is shining ; but to 
go out into the highways and hedges, to visit the 
poor and afflicted, to do missionary work, to 
bear trials, to seek to win sinful men to Christ, as 
you have opportunity, this always requires self- 



402 DOUBTING CASTLE 

denial ; so that By-Path Meadow may be very 
attractive, and those very persons may be tempted 
to pursue it, who have been enjoying much in the 
Word of God and in prayer, but who, when trying 
times come on, and painful labors are necessary, 
listen to the voice of self-indulgence. This we 
are always apt to do, and nothing but divine 
grace can make us submit to divine discipline. 

A spirit of discontent and repining amidst 
trials, a spirit of rebellion because God takes 
away our mercies, is likely at any time, if in- 
dulged, to bring the soul into the Castle of Gi- 
ant Despair. If we have been enjoying much of 
God's goodness, both inward and external, and 
then, because the path of duty leads through suf- 
fering, or because God sends us on errands hu- 
miliating to our pride, we shrink back from duty, 
and take some compromising course, we may 
seem to be travelling in a meadow, but the 
end thereof is danger and gloom. When a man 
refuses to undergo such labor and suffering for 
Christ as lie in the way of his duty, he will have to 
surfer far more inwardly than he ever could have 
done outwardly. The sufferings of Christian and 
Hopeful in the grounds and castle of Giant Despair 
were incomparably greater than all the fatigue they 
could have endured while travelling the rough road 
of their pilgrimage. Yet we often forget, when 
hardness comes, that our business is to endure 
hardness, as good soldiers of Jesus Christ. 

Our simple heavenly-minded Pilgrims seem to 
have forgotten this for a season, and to have ex- 
pected nothing but enjoyment all the rest of the 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 403 

way. But now the river and the way for a time 
parted, and the way was rough ; so still as they 
went they wished for a better. Here were the 
first beginnings of discontent, and they ought to 
have repressed them. They should have said, It 
is true this way is not so pleasant as the Mea- 
dow, but it is the Lord's way, and the best, doubt- 
less, for us to travel in; these trials are of God's 
making for us, and they come in the way of our 
duty ; so we must still go on and be thankful. But 
they said, How very rough is the way, how painful, 
how fatiguing ! I wish there were a better way ; 
can we not find an easier way ? When Christians 
thus allow themselves to wish for a better way than 
the way of God's appointment, Satan is generally 
at hand to point out some way that seems easier 
and better, and to tempt the soul to wander in it. 
A man speedily enters into temptation when he 
becomes discontented with God's allotments ; 
then Satan presents allurements, and from wish- 
ing for a better way the soul goes into a worse. 
The discontented wish is father to a sinful will ; 1 
wish for a better is followed by I will hare a better ; 
and so the soul goes astray. 

The Pilgrims had no sooner wished for a better, 
than By-Path Meadow presented itself, with a con- 
venient, tempting stile. This is very opportune, 
said they, just what we were wishing for; we'll not 
walk in the dust, when we can tread upon grass 
and flowers, especially if the meadow lies along 
the wayside. So they went to the stile to see. This 
was entering into temptation, this was looking on 
the wine when it was red, this was a wandering, 



/ 

404 DOUBTING CASTLE. 

sinful desire, not checked but dallied with. It is 
the same thing, said they, the meadow and the road 
go on together. But it is a dangerous thing to be 
trying the experiment how far we may sin safely. 
These Pilgrims, contrary to their usual wont, were 
now trying the experiment with how little self- 
denial they could get along in their pilgrimage, 
and of course with how much self-indulgence it 
might consist. But this, I say, is very dangerous. 
It is like venturesome schoolboys trying how far 
they may make the thin ice bend under them over a 
deep place, without breaking through. This going 
as far as you can on debateable ground is a great 
injury to the tenderness of the conscience. A 
man who will go as far as he may, is sure to go 
farther than he ought, and then a tempestuous 
night and Giant Despair's Castle are not far off. 
So deceitful are the ways of sin, that the first steps 
of travel in them seemed to these Pilgrims but 
as an indulgence to wearied, sore-footed Virtue. 
True, there is no want of company in such a case. 
There are those who travel in By-Path Meadow 
without any scruple at all ; so the Pilgrims speedily 
espied a man going before them at a great rate, 
whose name was Vain-confidence, of whom (silly 
men) they asked if this were the way to the Celestial 
City ; and he told them Most certainly, he was 
straight in it himself! So sometimes the real 
Pilgrims take counsel and example of strangers, 
of worldly men, and of presumptuous, careless 
persons, who have little or no conscience. Vain 
confidence is a sad guide any where, but espe- 
cially w T hen one has wandered out of the way. 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 405 

Now there were four capital errors which the 
Pilgrims had already committed ; (1,) they had 
discontentedly wished for a better way ; (2,) they 
had gone up to the stile to look over it ; (3,) they 
had climbed over the stile ; (4,) they had taken 
encouragement by a wrong example, and followed 
Vain-confidence ; and, what was strange, the older 
and stronger Christian had led the younger and 
weaker one out of the way. Now when the night 
came on, and ihe storm, they began to find how 
evil and bitter a thing it is to wander from God. 
They heard the fall of Vain-confidence into a deep, 
dreadful pit, and they heard him groan, but could 
see nothing ; and now they bemoan their folly, 
and though they are both in a sad case, yet Chris- 
tian's is certainly the worse, for having led Hopeful 
out of the way ; and most humbly and ingenuously 
does he beg his brother's pardon. 

But why, in that tempestuous night, when the 
waters were rising around them, did they not obey 
the voice which they heard, and persevere, amidst 
all dangers, till they had gotten again into the 
King's highway 1 Sometimes the Pilgrims, who 
have thus wandered into darkness, seek relief by 
duties, and not by Christ ; and so conscience gets 
a temporary quiet, but a false one ; there is no place 
of safety, short of Christ. Some such relief these 
Pilgrims seem to have gotten in that they reached 
a rising ground, above the waters, and there being 
thoroughly tired, and not being able, or thinking 
they were not, to reach the King's highway that 
night, they there lay down and slept. But ah, what 
sleep can there be until the soul has come 



406 DOUBTING CASTLE 

back to Christ . 1 What sleep can there be amidst 
unforgiven sin ? They had better not have slept 
at all, but kept struggling amidst the storm all 
night long, for these grounds were the grounds 
of Giant Despair, and Giant Despair found them, 
not striving to get back, but fast asleep for sor- 
row and weariness. Ah, what safety can there 
be for sleepers away from Christ 1 This sleep was 
worse for Christian and Hopeful that that in the 
Arbor. So do Christians sometimes make an 
imperfect return to duty in their own strength ; 
and conscience thus being imperfectly quieted, 
lulled by a sleep, and not sprinkled by the blood 
of Christ, Giant Despair after all finds them in 
his grounds, and carries them away to his castle. 

Now were Christian and Hopeful in a dreadful 
case ; deep down in darkness, the bars of the 
earth and of death around them, no food, nor 
drink, nor light, nor comfort, the weeds were 
wrapped about their head, and in this dungeon 
they cried as out of the belly of hell, bemoan- 
ing themselves to one another with groans and 
lamentations. The description which Bunyan has 
given of their treatment by the Giant is exquisitely 
beautiful and affecting; no part of the Pilgrim's 
Progress makes a deeper impression than this; and 
the different manner in which the two Pilgrims 
endure these trials, forms a development of charac- 
ter which in no other portion of the work is more 
profound and instructive. Hopeful continues hope- 
ful, even in despair; Christian at one time abandons 
all hope, and listens seriously to the Giant's in- 
fernal temptations to self-destruction. Hopeful 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 407 

had not fallen so fai as Christian, for Christian had 
been the more eminent and experienced Pilgrim 
of the two, and had also led his fellow astray. But 
this did not make all the difference. Hopeful's 
frame of mind was naturally more elastic than 
Christian's ; he was of a more joyous tempera- 
ment, and more apt to look on the bright side ; 
not so deep, grave and far-sighted as Chris- 
tian, and not capable, in any case, of quite such 
deep trials of feeling. Hopeful's spirits soon 
rose again, but Christian, when he is down on ac- 
count of sin, is brought even to the gates of hell. 
How affecting] y instructive are Hopeful's argu- 
ments with Christian to dissuade him from sui- 
cide. Doubtless, good men have been tempted in 
this way, but strange enough it seems that a sense 
of God's wrath and desertion on account of sin 
should tempt a man to plunge deeper into such 
wrath, nay, to incur it past redemption. 

Christian never dreamed of destroying himself 
when he was righting with Apollyon, in passing 
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; 
but a sense of sin, and of God's wrath on account 
of it, quite unmans the soul ; none can stand 
against God's terrors. A thousand fiends may 
easier be met with, than the remembrance of one 
sin. Besides, in the conflict with Apollyon, and 
the passage of the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
Christian was in the course of his duty ; both these 
dangers lay directly in the path to the Celestial 
City, so that, though hard beset, and pressed out 
of measure, Christian was not despairing, for he 
knew he met those evils in the right way ; but here 

53 



408 DOUBTING CASTLE 

he was out of the way. Giant Despair's Castle 
could not even be seen from the King's highway ; 
it was so far off that he wandered a long distance 
before he came in sight of it, and here the Pilgrims 
were far from the road, they knew not how far. 
They were in such desperation, that for a long time 
they could do nothing but brood over their gloomy 
thoughts, and they hardly dared to pray. 

All this is related as a story, with such natural 
incidents, with such power of character, and such 
vivid coloring, that no story of a life could be more 
graphic ; and yet it is allegory, it is the experience 
of the mind alone ; but allegory so perfect, the ex- 
perience so touched into life, that each becomes 
either, and may be perfect story or allegory, as you 
please. The temptations to suicide, presented by 
Giant Despair, constitute a description so wonder- 
fully similar to a passage in Spenser on the same 
subject, that it would have seen as if Bunyan must 
have read the Fairy Queen. The effect of the vile 
arguments of Despair upon the knight in Spenser 
is very similar to that of the arguments used by the 
Giant upon Christian. The poor Pilgrim was al- 
most beside himself in his misery. 

And yet, this is the man who overcame the Hill 
Difficulty, and passed through the Valley of the 
Shadow of Death, and passed so nobly through 
Vanity Fair. This is the hero of that dread con- 
flict with Apollyon. And now he, whom the world 
could not overcome, nor fiends destroy, thinks of 
destroying himself! Oh the intolerable misery of 
an accusing conscience ! The sense of the guilt 
of our departure from God is far worse to bear 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 409 

than the mere hiding of God's countenance ; it 
makes cowards and slaves of the bravest. 

In this state did Christian and Hopeful remain 
day after day, night after night, though it was all 
night with them, and no light but to discover sights 
of wo. Yet, after all, they would not give way to 
the suggestions of Giant Despair. It is a curious 
picture, which Bunyan has drawn of the intercourse 
between the Giant and his wife Diffidence. They 
form a very loving couple in their way, and the 
Giant takes no new step in the treatment of the 
Pilgrims without consulting Mrs. Diffidence over 
night ; so that the curtain lectures to which we lis- 
ten are very curious. But Mrs. Diffidence ought 
rather to have been called Dame Desperation, or 
Desperate Resolution ; for she seems, if anything, 
the more stubborn genius of the two ; and when 
the Giant, very much astonished that " the sturdy 
rogues" hold out so long against his temptations 
and his beatings, brings the case to her at night for 
advice, she proposes his taking the Pilgrims into 
the Castle Yard, to show them the fearful heap of 
the sculls and bones of Pilgrims who have been 
by him destoyed. 

Nevertheless, all would not avail utterly to subdue 
the Pilgrims ; though in deep misery, they waited 
still, and Hopeful would still be encouraging his 
brother, though it seemed to be hoping against 
hope. Like as in the Slough of Despond, at first 
setting out on the pilgrimage, they were unable to 
see the promises, or in dreadful, sullen unbelief, 
refused to take hold upon them, as being beyond 
their case. And this was partly because as yet, 



410 DOUBTING CASTLE 

though bemoaning their sin and misery, they had 
not returned to prayer ; a dreadful case, whenever 
it happens to the Christian ; for when, from 
any cause, he is driven from the throne of grace, 
or yielding to temptation, stays away from that 
sure refuge, he is indeed in terrible danger, he is 
well nigh lost. And this cannot remain, for he 
he must either pray or he lost, and it is in prayer 
that he generally finds the first light after dark 
ness. So Bunyan, with exquisite beauty and 
truth, makes his Pilgrims resume this weapon of 
All-Prayer, compelled unto it by their very depth 
of guilt and misery. 

It is Saturday night, and all night long they 
wrestle in prayer, till the very break of day ; 
all night long before they see the promise. The 
Sabbath as it breaks, finds them in prayer ; and 
now, as the dawn begins to make silvery gray the 
sky and the mountains outside the Castle, so 
the unwonted light is breaking on the soul in 
the Pilgrim's Dungeon. All at once, as if it 
were a new revelation, Christian finds and ap- 
plies the Promises ; and indeed it is a new revela- 
tion, which none but the merciful Saviour could 
make ; he it is, who has been watching over his 
erring disciples ; he it is, who has known their 
path, when their soul was overwhelmed within 
them ; he it is, who has kept back the hand of De- 
spair from destroying them. They have gone astray 
like lost sheep ; he it is, who leaveth the ninety and 
nine upon the mountains, and seeketh the hun- 
dredth one, until he findeth it ; he it is, who binds 
up the broken in heart, and healeth all their wounds. 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 411 

They were praying, Restore unto me the joy of 
thy Salvation, and uphold me by thy free Spirit ; 
cast me not away from thy presence, and take not 
thy Holy Spirit from me ; — and now as the Sab- 
bath dawns, when Jesus himself arose from the 
tomb, the star of Hope rises on the hearts of these 
prisoned ones, and they suddenly cried out, as a 
glimpse of the Saviour's long-hidden counte- 
nance broke through their gloom, There is for- 
giveness with thee, that thou mayest be feared, 
with thee there is plenteous redemption ! What 
a fool am I, said Christian, to lie in this filthy 
dungeon, when I have a key in my bosom, that I 
am persuaded will open every lock in Doubting 
Castle ! Yes, it was in his bosom ; and it had been 
there even since he entered the Wicket Gate. 
But who made him now feel it 1 Who made 
him remember it now, after so long forgetful- 
ness, and who gave him skill and strength to 
use his golden key aright ? It was God, against 
whom he had sinned ; the Saviour, whom he had 
wounded ; the merciful Spirit, whom he had 
grieved. But now, the key ! the key ! put it into 
the lock and try it ! They trembled with fear and 
eagerness ; the creaking of the rusty hinges made 
them tremble ; they felt as if they could hear 
the breathing of the Giant after them, as if his 
grasp was upon their shoulders, and it was not 
till they had passed the outer gate of the Castle, 
and got into the clear open air, that they dared 
believe they were really escaping. 

It was Sabbath morning. The sun was break- 
ing over the hills, and fell upon their pale, hag- 



412 DOUBTING CASTLE 

gard countenances. It was to them a new crea- 
tion ; they breathed the fresh, reviving air, and 
brushed, with hasty steps, the dew from the un- 
trodden grass, and fled the nearest way. to the 
stile, over which they had wandered. How much 
they had suffered ! But they had learned a 
lesson by that suffering, which nothing else could 
have taught them, and which would remain with 
them to the day of their death. They had learned, 
from bitter experience, that any thing and all 
things had better be endured, than to depart 
from God and duty ; and that whereas ease 
sought in the way of their pilgrimage might seem 
as a sweet meadow for a time, it would prove in 
the end a more intolerable evil, than all the rough- 
ness and hardness of the King's highway. 

They had learned also to value the light of God's 
countenance as they never did before, to watch 
as they never did before, against every thing that 
might interrupt that light, or shut out the Saviour 
from their souls. They had learned to distrust 
themselves more thoroughly, and to cast them- 
selves on Christ more entirely, and these are the 
two great lessons which we need to learn from 
experience ; our own weakness and Christ's 
strength : they had gained new proofs of the 
efficacy of a Saviour's blood, as well as new 
views, and a deeper sense, of the dreadful evil 
of sin, and in every way they were wiser, though 
perhaps sadder men than before. It was almost 
worth those fearful days and nights in Giant De- 
spair's Castle, to learn so much more both of 
themselves and of Christ ; but this bringing good 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 413 

out of evil was God's doing, and not theirs ; they 
had perished in their sins, had not God had mercy 
on them. 

And now they use, as all Pilgrims should do, 
their own bitter experience for good to others. 
They mean to keep others, if possible, from 
falling into the same snare with themselves, and 
so, as soon as they are got safe into the Lord's 
blessed highway, and out of their enemies' ju- 
risdiction they proceed to nail up that famous 
inscription, Over this stile lies the way to Doubt- 
ing Castle, kept by Giant Despair. They 
thought, forsooth, that no Pilgrim after them, 
reading this inscription, would dare go out of 
the way. But by a strange blindness, which hap- 
penes to the Pilgrims whenever they are bent on 
self-indulgence, they are so taken with the Mea- 
dow, that they do not read the inscription, and so 
they pass over the same stile, just as if no person 
had ever tried it before, and just as if there were 
no Giant Despair's Castle. Before Christian and 
Hopeful passed by, there had been just such 
inscriptions, but the Pilgrims did not heed them. 
King David himself, who spent so long time in 
the Castle, put up just such an inscription, near 
three thousand years ago, and Solomon, from 
bitter experience, renewed it after him ; but 
Christian and Hopeful themselves did not read 
it. Nor do any read it, except the Lord en- 
lighten their darkness, and make them vigilant 
at the very moment temptation comes upon them. 
For the time when they enter into temptation is 
the time when this inscription disappears, and 



414 DOUBTING CASTLE. 

when they are once entered in as in a cloud, they 
can hear nothing, see nothing, but the temptation 
itself, and so they fall, and are afterwards made 
wretched. May the Lord keep us from such 
dreadful experience ! Oh what dread meaning 
there is in those warnings of Christ, Pray that ye 
enter not into temptation. Watch and pray, lest ye 
enter into temptation. Entering into temptation is 
a very different thing from being assailed by temp- 
tation ; but in neither case can we conquer or be 
delivered except by Christ. 

There is nothing which God does, that he does 
not do freely, and like a God. When he pardons 
our sins, it is to remember them no more forever ; 
w 7 hen he restores to us the joy of his salvation, his 
face shines upon us with a beatifying love, as if 
we had never offended him. Only return unto me 
and I will return unto you, saith the Lord. So, we 
no sooner find the Pilgrims got out of the Castle of 
Giant Despair, and their inscription over the stile 
finished, but we meet, them in sweet instructive 
company on the top of the Delectable Mountains. 
So great, so free, so abundant is God's goodness in 
Christ in the pardon of the penitent. Yet these 
mountains were not attained without climbing ; 
none arrive at them but by much holy diligence 
in the pilgrimage ; and Christian and Hopeful 
never walked more warily and prayerfully than 
now after their wonderful escape from the Castle of 
Giant Despair. 

Here were gardens, orchards, vineyards, and 
fountains of living water, to reward their diligence 
and refresh their spirits. Here were Shepherds of 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 415 

Christ, appointed to feed and keep his flock on 
these mountains, precious, holy men, named 
Knowledge, Experience, Watchful and Sincere, 
who took the Pilgrims by the hand, instructed them 
by their conversation, and led them about to show 
them the wonders of these mountains, just as the 
good Interpreter had shown them the rarities in his 
house. They were shown where many men were 
dashed in pieces by carelessly climbing the Hill 
of Error, and failing in the midst of its specula- 
tions. They were shown from the top of another 
mountain, called Caution, a number of blind men 
wandering and stumbling across tombs ; and the 
Shepherds, little knowing or imagining the late 
fearful experience of the Pilgrims in Doubting 
Castle, informed them that these were men who 
had had their eyes put out by Giant Despair, and 
were there by him thrown among these dark 
tombs ; according to the saying of Scripture, He 
that wandereth out of the way of understanding, 
shall remain in the Congregation of the Dead. 

Oh, thought Christian and Hopeful, why were not 
we also left to such a dreadful fate ! Who hath 
made us to differ? What mercy of God that he 
did not leave us also to be blinded and destroyed ! 
They said not a word to the Shepherds, but looked 
on one another with a look that spoke volumes, 
and the tears gushed out. So, how many hair- 
breadth escapes have we all had amidst our sins, 
where others have stumbled and fallen to rise no 
more ! What thankfulness should the remembrance 
*)f these mercies excite in us. 

The good Shepherds also took the Pilgrims to 
54 



416 DOUBTING CASTLE 

the top of the Hill Clear, from whence they could, 
in a fine day, see the Celestial City, through the 
telescope which the Shepherds kept by them. This 
perspective glass is Faith, but the Pilgrims have 
not always equal skill in using it. However, 
they managed to see something of the glory of the 
City, and that vision, imperfect though it was, was 
very ravishing to their spirits. 

We journey in a vale of tears ; 

But often from on high 
The glorious bow of God appears, 

And lights up all our sky. 
Then through the breaking clouds of heaven 

Far distant visions come, 
And sweetest words of grace are given, 

To cheer the Pilgrim home. 

Then doubt and darkness flee away, 

And shadows all are gone :— - 
Oh ! if such moments would but stay, 

This earth and heaven were one. 
Too soon the vision is withdrawn ; 

There's only left, " He saith ;" 
And I, a lonely Pilgrim, turn, 

To live and walk by Faith. 

Yet e'en for glimpses such as these 

My soul would cheerful bear 
All that in darkest days it sees, 

The toil, the pain, the care. 
For through the conflict and the race, 

Whatever grief my lot, 
If Jesus shows his lovely face, 

All troubles are forgot. 

My quickened soul, in faith and love, 

Mounts up on eagles' wings, 
And at the City Gates above 

Exulting sits and sings ! 
'Tis through thy sufferings, O my Lord, 
I hope that world to see, 
And through those gates, at thy sweet word, 
To enter in to Thee ! 



AND GIANT DESPAIR. 417 

After going through the conflict with Apollyon, 
the Valley of the Shadow of Death, the scenes in 
Vanity Fair, and the dread experience of the Pil- 
grims in Giant Despair's Castle, it is well to note 
what a Gallery of solemn Realities is here, what 
a system of Divine Truth, commending itself to 
all men's consciences. It is not so much the 
richness of imagination, nor the tenderness of feel- 
ing here exhibited, nor the sweetness and beauty of 
the imagery, with which this book is filled, as it is 
the presence of these Realities, that constitutes 
the secret of its unbounded power over the soul. 

Waik up and down in this rich and solemn Gal- 
lery. How simple are its ornaments ! How grave, 
yet beautiful, its architecture ! Amidst all this 
deep, serene beauty to the imagination, by how 
much deeper a tone do these pictures speak to 
the inner spiritual being of the soul ! When you 
have admired the visible beauty of the paintings, 
turn again to seek their meaning in that light from 
Eternity by which the Artist painted them, and 
by which he would have all men examine their les- 
sons, and receive and feel the full pow 7 er of their 
coloring. In this light the walls of this Gallery 
seem moving with celestial figures speaking to 
the soul. They are acting the Drama of a Life, 
which by most men is only dreamed of; but the 
Drama is the Reality, and it is the spectators only, 
w 7 ho are walking in a vain show. 

The Pilgrim's Progress shows an immortal being 
journeying in the light, and under the transform- 
ing power of these Realities. They are such ever- 
present truths, that you cannot read this work, 



418 DOUBTING CASTLE AND GIANT DESPAIR. 

without discovering them, any more than you could 
read aloud the pages of a book, without pronouncing 
its words ; any more than one could travel through 
a magnificent city, and not behold its streets and 
palaces ; anymore than one could look at the rain- 
bow without seeing its colors, or at the sun without 
beholding its light. It is by the power of these 
truths that the Pilgrim's Progress, like the Sword 
of the Spirit, which is the Word of God, proves it- 
self a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the 
heart. 

The whole foundation on which the author of this 
work, which of all other books stands the nearest 
after the Bible to the overpowering light of Eternity, 
has built the structure of its Realities, is his view, 
(taken from the Bible and the Spirit of God,) of 
sin, of God, of Christ, of the Eternal World, and 
of the relations of man, as a fallen being, to that 
world and to his Maker. The gloom in this book, if 
gloom it can be called, where the light of the Cross 
so irradiates it, arises from the immutable dread na- 
ture of sin, and not from any dark views of the 
Gospel. It is not a gloomy book; no man ever 
thought of bringing against it such an accusation; 
it is one of the most cheerful books in the language. 
And yet it is a solemn array of the Realities of spiri- 
tual Truth. The way of our pilgrimage is from 
gloom to grace and glory; gloom at first, but after- 
wards glory everlasting ; but they who will reject 
the element of gloom from their theology in this 
world are not likely to have the element of glory 
spring from it hereafter. 




ii 



THE 

DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS, 

AND 

ENCHANTED GROUND, 

WITH THE 

CHARACTERS OF IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 



View of the Celestial City.— The importance of such visions on our pilgrimage.*— 
Character of Ignorance. — False views of justification.— Denial of the doctrine of 
Justification by Faith. — Salvation by our own merits in any way impossible.— 
Christ, a whole Saviour or none at all.— To say that a man is saved by his works 
is just the same as to say that he is saved by his sins.— Character of Little -Faith.— 
The Enchanted Ground and the Flatterer.— The delusions of self-righteousness.— 
The religious experience of Hopeful.— The renewed heart a mirror of Divine Truth 

On the Delectable Mountains, the Pilgrims had 
a sight of the Celestial City. No matter if it was 
but a glimpse, still they saw it, they really saw it, 
and the remembrance of that sight never left them. 
There it was in glory! Their hands trembled, their 
eyes were dim with tears, but still that vision was 
not to be mistaken. There, through the rifted 
clouds for a moment, the gates of pearl w 7 ere shin- 
ing, the jasper walls, the endless domes, the jew- 
elled battlements ! The splendor of the city 
seemed to pour, like a river of light, down upon 
54 



420 THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS, 

the spot where they were standing. We may adopt 
the imagery of the Poet Wordsworth, attempting 
to convey the idea of a material vision which he 
beheld in the clouds after a storm, in order to 
shadow forth something of that glory which might 
have been seen from the summit of the Delectable 
Mountains. 

Glory beyond all glory ever seen 
By waking sense, or by the dreaming soul ! 
The appearance, instantaneously disclosed, 
Was of a Mighty City, — boldly say 
A Wilderness of building, sinking far, 
And self-withdrawn into a wondrous depth, 
Far sinking into splendor without end ! 
Fabric it seemed of diamond and of Gold, 
With alabaster domes and silver spires, 
And blazing terrace upon terrace, high 
Uplifted : here, serene pavilions bright, 
In avenues disposed; there, towers begirt 
With battlements, that on their restless fronts 
Bore stars — illumination of all gems ! 

Now this sight did ravish the hearts of the Pilgrims, 
though they could not look steadily through the 
glass. Sometimes this vision is revealed to Pil- 
grims much more clearly than at other times ; but 
no language can describe the glory of the vision, 
whenever and however it is manifested to the soul ; 
for eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither hath it 
entered into the heart of man to conceive the things 
which God hath prepared for them that love him. 
But God reveals them by his Spirit, and sometimes 
doubtless with such a revelation as language can- 
not compass. 

Much depends upon the weather in our soul's 
horizon. Sometimes, even when ascending the 
Delectable Mountains, the Pilgrims are enveloped 



AND ENCHANTED GROUND. 421 

in joy all the way up* They climb, and tarn to see 
the prospect, but can see nothing ; it is like 
ascending the Alps on a misty day. But still they 
climb. And now, all unexpectedly and suddenly, 
they rise out of the cloud and beyond it ; — the Sun 
is shining, the mountains are flashing like pure ala- 
baster ; — they seem to have angels' wings, they 
come to the Hill Clear, the Celestial City breaks 
upon them. Ah, how glorious, how merciful is 
such a vision ! Worth all the climbing, all the 
fatigue, all the mist, rain and darkness. Now 
the soul can go on its way rejoicing ; now it can say 
to Atheist, What ? No Celestial City I Did I 
not see it from the Delectable Mountains 1 Shall 
not my soul remember thee, O God, and the 
sweet glimpses of thy glory which thou hast caused 
to pass before me ? Yea, my soul followeth hard 
after Thee, and thy right hand upholdeth me ; and 
as long as I live will I praise the Lord for his good- 
ness, and pant for his abode. 

Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! 
Name ever dear to me ! 

Such glimpses of Heaven, though they be 
but glimpses, are inexpressibly blessed and sus- 
taining in our pilgrimage. They help to wean the 
affections from earth, they strengthen us against 
temptations, they make us see in the most striking 
light, the emptiness and vanity of the things of the 
world, and the folly arid sinfulness of the love of 
the world ; they make us feel, while confined to the 
world, what shadows we are, and what shadows we 
pursue ; they make trials also seem very small and 



422 THE DELECTABLE MOUNTAINS, 

transitory, and easy to be borne. Moreover, they 
quicken the heart after God ; for the renewed 
heart well knows that God is the glory of that 
City, for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb 
are the temple of it ; and it has no need of the 
sun, neither of the moon to shine in it ; for the 
glory of God doth lighten it, and the Lamb is 
the light thereof. When the heart is filled and 
purified with such desires after heaven, as in 
Paul's case, then it doth desire to depart and 
to be with Christ ; it would lay by these gar- 
ments of mortality, that it may put on Christ, and 
be clothed upon with our house which is from 
heaven. Sometimes, when God, by his grace, 
puts the heart in such a holy frame, discloses so 
much of himself in Christ to it, every day is 
counted, as it passes, for joy, as a step nearer 
heaven ; so that Death seems no longer the King 
of Terrors, but the Angel of a Father's love ; 
and the day when he comes is the Christian's 
Birth-Day of Eternity. So Time itself, the 
most fleeting of all things, seems sometimes long, 
because it separates the soul from the Saviour ! 

For this it is makes life so long, 
While it detains us from our God : 
E'en pleasures here increase the wrong, 
And length of days lengthens the rod. 

Who wants the place where God doth dwell, 

Partakes already half of hell. 

Herbert. 

O how desirable is such a frame ! But the 
Pilgrims are not always in it ; so Christian and 
Hopeful must go down from the Delectable Moun- 
tains, and be on the comman way of their pilgrim- 



AND ENCHANTED GROUND, 423 

age ; for these hap^y experiences and visions of 
heaven are given, as I said, not to constitute our 
rest, but to make us long after it, to make us wil- 
ling to endure hardships as good soldiers of Jesus 
Christ. The Crown of Life is after Death, and no 
man can be crowned, till, through Christ, he has 
gained the victory. The Lord, in mercy, grant 
us that grace, that we, through him, may gain 
that victory, being made faithful unto death ! 

The Pilgrims must go on, and though they 
have been where they could see the Celestial City, 
yet there are dangers and labors still to go through, 
and no chariot, nor bright cloud, nor way 
through the air, to convey them insensibly, or 
without fatigue to heaven. So they bade the kind 
Shepherds a loving farewell. Methinks, after all 
their past experiences and visions, they breathed, 
as they went, the very spirit of those sweet verses 
of Baxter, in which he poured forth, with such 
simplicity, the breathings of his soul after heaven, 
and the quiet spirit of resignation to God's will. 

Lord, it belongs not to my care, 

Whether I die or live ,* 
To love and serve thee is my share, 

And this thy grace must give. 
If life be long, I will be glad, 

That I may long obey : 
If short, yet why should I be sad, 

That shall have the same pay ! 

Christ leads me through no darker rooms, 

Than he went through before ; 
He that into God's kingdom comes, 

Must enter by this door. 
Come, Lord, when grace hath made me meet 

Thy blessed face to see ; 
For if thy work on earth be sweet, 

What will thy glory be ! 



424 



THE CHARACTERS OF 

Then I shall end my sad complaints, 

And weary sinful days ; 
And join with the triumphant saints, 

That sing Jehovah's praise. 
My knowledge of that life is small, 

The eye of faith is dim ; 
But 'tis enough that Christ knows all, 

And I shall be with him ! 



After the Pilgrims are set out from the Delec- 
table Mountains, there pass before us a succession 
of scenes of great beauty, and characters of 
great interest, mingled with so much instructive 
and delightful conversation by the way, that it 
is a good type of that growth in grace and that 
heavenly wisdom, which should more and more 
mark the Pilgrims, the nearer they come to the 
Celestial City. The first character we meet is 
that of Ignorance, from the town of Conceit ; then 
Little-Faith passes before us with his story ; then 
the character of Great-Grace. Next comes the 
Flatterer, then the Atheist, then the Enchanted 
Ground, and Hopeful's instructive relation of his 
religious experience, then the farther development 
of the character of Ignorance, then the course of 
an apostate. Next comes the picture of the land 
Beulah, and last of all, the river of Death and the 
Celestial City. 

Ignorance was a very brisk lad, that came out 
of the country, and was going to enter heaven 
" as other good people do," by his goodness and 
not by Christ. He was a man of morality, a payer 
of his debts, a faster, a tithe-payer, an alms- 
giver ; and to this catalogue of his worthy quali- 
ties, by which he was to be received in at the 
Gate, he also added that he had left his own 



IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 425 

country for ivhither he was going. Here then, was 
a Professor of religion, who meant to be saved by 
his own merits, and yet deemed himself to have 
forsaken all for Christ, at least to have left his 
native country of Conceit. But he had still, 
unknown to himself, all the manners and feel- 
ings of his native land, and though he seemed 
to himself to be travelling towards the Celestial 
City, yet he was a stranger both to himself and to 
Christ, and of course had never entered by the 
Wicket Gate, and was destitute of Christian's roll 
of assurance. How many professed followers 
of Christ there may be, who are entirely ignorant 
of their own depraved nature, and of their need 
of a Saviour's righteousness, we cannot tell, but 
we are all natives of this country of Conceit ; and 
if we expect to attain salvation by our own works, 
prayers, fastings, merits in any way, and not by 
the all-sufficing merits, the all-atoning sacrifice, 
and the all-renewing grace of Christ, we are ut- 
terly ignorant of what be the \ery first principles 
of the Cross of Christ. Where there is this 
ignorance of the Cross, there is very likely to be 
enmity against it, or a light esteem of it. So 
Mr. Ignorance did not think that there were " any 
men in all our parts who knew the way to the 
Wicket Gate," and for his part, he did not think 
there were any need of knowing it, since there 
was a much nearer way. 

So Ignorance and the Pilgrims parted for a 
season, but afterwards they renewed their con- 
versation, and Ignorance gave the Pilgrims to 
know more particularly what were some of the 



426 THE CHARATERS OF 

grounds of his own assurance in regard to his 
good estate. The main thing seemed to be his 
comfortable hopes of heaven, and the good things 
that his own heart was telling him about him- 
self. He seems never to have known the des- 
parate wickedness of his own heart, nor to have 
thought of distrusting it ; and when good Chris- 
tian explained to him that by the judgment of the 
Word of God the heart is naturally altogether sin- 
ful, then did Ignorance break out with this speech, 
saying, I will never believe that my heart is thus 
bad. Therefore, said Christian, thou never hadst 
one good thought concerning thyself in thy life. 

This good opinion of Ignorance concerning him- 
self was a radical, blinding evil, a great delusion, 
as it is with many professed Pilgrims ; for, not 
seeing his own desperate sinfulness, of course he 
saw not his need of Christ as a Saviour, and had 
never fled to him, nor known what it was to rely 
upon him for mercy. Yet, he spake of Christ, 
and expected to be saved only by him, but it was 
in such a way as if Christ died to give to the sin- 
ner's own works a saving efficacy. 

The case of Ignorance shows that there must be 
deep conviction, knowledge, and hatred of one's own 
guilt, to make one fully see, feel and know the pre- 
ciousness of Christ, and then indeed the soul rests 
upon him ; but it cannot rest upon him and upon 
its own works or merits together. Christ will be 
an only Saviour, or none at all. But there are 
many, who, like Ignorance, profess to rest upon 
Christ, but make him only half their Saviour, rely- 
ing on their own holiness also for acceptance before 



IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 427 

God. This is a vvy dangerous error, as in the 
instance of Ignorance, for it proceeds from Self- 
conceit, and even while under its influence men 
still think that they hold to the fundamental doctrine 
of Justification by Faith. 

This was the case with Ignorance, yet his de- 
scription of Faith would sound very plausible to 
many minds. I believe, said he, that Christ died 
for sinners, and that I shall be justified before God 
from the curse, through his gracious acceptance of 
my obedience to the Jaw. Or thus, Christ makes 
my duties, that are religious, acceptable to his Fa- 
ther, by virtue of his merits, and so I shall be justi- 
fied. Now this faith was truly, as Christian said, a 
fantastical, false, deceitful, faith, no where de- 
scribed in the Word of God, although, having a 
great show of scriptural truth, it was wonderfully 
adapted to mislead and delude the simple and 
ignorant. 

But who does not see that such a faith as this 
makes Christ not a Saviour of ourselves, but of our 
duties ; it makes Christ die in order to constitute 
for us a self-righteousness, in order to make what 
we do the ground of our salvation But Christ him- 
self is our salvation, or we have none at all. He 
himself, and not our duties for his sake, is our wis- 
dom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption. 
He died to save our souls, and not to save our 
righteousness, nor to make our obedience fit for us 
to rest upon for salvation, for it never can be fit, 
but always needs to be forgiven. But this faith of 
Ignorance would make Christ a justifler not of the 
believer, but of his actions, and a justifler and Sa- 
55 



428 THE CHARATERS OP 

viour of the believer for the sake of his actions ! 
That is, it makes Christ die for the justification of 
the believer's duties, which thus, it is pretended, 
become merits, and may be presented, through 
Christ, to God, as the purchase of salvation! 

Now, when Christian explained the real nature of 
justifying faith in Christ, as relying solely upon 
him and his merits, the self-righteousness of Igno- 
rance cried out against it. What, said he, would 
you have us trust to what Christ in his own person 
hath done without us 1 This conceit would loosen 
the reins of our lusts, and tolerate ns to live as 
we list ; for what matter how we live, if we may be 
justified by Christ's personal righteousness from all 
sin, when we believe it 1 This was the common 
outcry and reproach of Antinomianism thrown 
against the doctrine of justification by faith, on the 
part of those who reject it. Ignorance was equally 
prejudiced against the declaration of Christian from 
the Bible, that no man can know Jesus Christ but 
by revelation from the Father ; and this was simply 
the common unwillingness of our proud hearts to 
admit such truth as throws us entirely on the 
sovereignty and mere good pleasure of God. 

The idea of justification by works, in any way, 
when we look at our own depravity, must appear 
to every sound mind as irrational as it is unscrip- 
tural. The best works, performed by the best 
man, are imperfect and mingled with sin, and 
therefore need to be forgiven ; so that to say that a 
man is justified by his works is no better than say- 
ing that a man is justified by his sins ; and how 
great an absurdity this is, there is no man who will 



t 

IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 429 

not acknowledge. Every true Christian deeply 
feels that the best duties he ever performed, the 
best services he ever offered to God, the most nn- 
mingled spiritual sacrifices he ever laid upon the 
altar of a Saviour's love, need to be sprinkled with 
a Saviour's blood, and cannot otherwise be ac- 
cepted of God. How then can he, in any sense 
whatever, be justified by his works, seeing that his 
works themselves need to be forgiven 1 The ut- 
most that his best works can do is to prove the ex- 
istence, in manifesting the fruits of that saving 
faith, through which the soul is united to Christ, 
and by his blood justified ; but if our works all par- 
take of sin, then, so far from being in any sense 
justified by works, we are condemned by them, 
and without other justification must perish ever- 
lastingly. 

In this view what can be more offensive to a 
believer in Christ than that spurious mixture of 
faith and works as a reliance for justification, which 
in our day is so common, but which robs the Sa- 
viour of his glory, and the atonement of its efficacy, 
and which, so far from excluding boasting, pro- 
duces pride, and sustains the most subtle and de- 
structive form of self-righteousness. Justification 
by faith is a precious doctrine, because it exalts 
the Saviour and cuts up human pride. Justification 
by works is an abominable, Popish perversion of 
the Gospel, which, whether in the form of penances 
or prayers, ministers to human pride, lays another 
foundation than that which Christ hath laid, intro- 
duces another Saviour, and so provides for the ruin 
and not the redemption of the soul. A church may 



430 THE CHARACTERS OF 

have Justification by Faith among its articles, and 
yet may go over upon Popish ground in justifica- 
tion by forms and works, and so may desert and 
betray this fundamental living truth of Christ. And 
many a man, like Ignorance, unacquainted with his 
own heart, and with Christ as his Physician, may 
be taken unawares by a show of scriptural truth, 
and instead of really building on the Rock Christ 
Jesus, may be led to build his house upon the sand. 
One of the most subtle poisons of the age is the 
doctrine of human merit, which, like a cloud from 
the bottomless pit, or thick vapor from the caves 
of Antichrist, darkens the Gospel, and sends the 
soul wandering in the mazes of pride and error. 
Christ is our Saviour, and not our works ; Christ 
alone, and not works in any sense ; Christ must be 
all, and in all, or we have no Saviour ; wherefore, 
let us be sure that we rest on him, for no righteous- 
ness can save us but his, nor is there any thing but 
his blood that can cleanse the soul from sin. 



Since the dear hour that brought me to Thy foot, 
And cut up all my follies by the root, 
I never trusted in an arm but Thine, 
Nor hoped, but in Thy Righteousness Divine. 
My prayers and alms, imperfect and defiled, 
Were but the feeble efforts of a child. 
Howe'er performed, it was their brightest part 
That they proceeded from a grateful heart. 
Cleansed in thine own all-purifying blood, 
Forgive their evil, and accept their good. 
I cast them at Thy feet — my only plea 
Is what it was, dependence upon thee! 



CoWPER. 



The character of Ignorance is a type of many, 
who, having never been truly convinced of sin, re- 
main unconscious of the desperate wickedness of 



TGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITII. 431 

their own hearts, an^ of their utter helplessness in 
themselves as to salvation. As Hopeful said of 
him, there are abundance of such as he in our 
town, whole families, yea, whole streets, and that 
of Pilgrims too; and if there be so many in our 
parts, how many, think you, must there be in the 
place where he was born. Something like his was 
the character of Temporary, who was awakened 
once, and resolved to go on a pilgrimage, but sud- 
denly becoming acquainted with one Save-self, he 
gave up the labor of it. This is what a great many 
persons do ; instead of despairing in themselves, 
and going to Christ alone to save them, they go to 
duties and pretended merits of their own, and 
when they do this, then farewell to Christ and 
his righteousness, and so, in reality, farewell to 
the hope of heaven. 

This spirit of self-righteousness is a fearful de- 
lusion and snare to many on first setting out in this 
pilgrimage. It seems to be the most difficult thing 
in the world for the heart to come to Christ just as 
it is, wholly bankrupt, and to receive Christ, and to 
understand him, and to rest upon him, just as he 
is, our only, all-sufficient Saviour. It is the most 
difficult thing to come and buy the wine and milk 
of the Gospel without price ; the sinner thinks he 
must bring something in his hand to purchase with, 
some duties, some merits, prayers at least, if no- 
thing else, to buy forgiveness. And in truth the 
act of resting on Christ is taught only of God ; a 
right appreciation and reception of Christ comes 
only from God's Spirit. So it is made for us the 
greatest, most important of all prayers, that the God 



432 THE CHARACTERS OF 

of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory > 
tvould give unto us the spirit of wisdom and reve- 
lation in the knowledge of Him. Without this 
revelation of Jesus to the soul as a Saviour, a 
man may talk ever so devoutly of the cross of 
Christ, and yet be a mere Save-self after all. Re- 
demption made easy, or every man his own Sa- 
viour, was a label which Mr. Coleridge, with great 
justness and severity of satire, once wrote over a 
collection of Socinian Tracts ; but in our day the 
doctrine of justification by faith seems to be aban- 
doned not only by those who deny the atonement 
and divinity of Christ, but by many who make a 
boast of those doctrines. Their theology is such a 
mixture of self-righteous morality, with something 
like the Gospel plan of salvation, as effectually de- 
stroys the saving efficacy of the Gospel, and yet 
satisfies the soul with the pretence and form of 
it. They make Christ a mere endorser on the 
ground of his own death, of the bill of merits, 
which the sinner presents on the ground of his own 
morality ; they make Christ merely a helper, and 
not a Saviour. But the Gospel must be every 
thing or nothing, and he that comes to Christ think- 
eth that he only needs him to make up his own de- 
ficiencies, does not believe in him as a Saviour at 
all, does not come to him as such. 

Nevertheless, it is not merely Ignorance who is 
pleased with the delusions of self-righteousness ; 
but real disciples sometimes, who think them- 
selves rooted and grounded in faith and love, are 
led away by the same temptations. This the 
Pilgrims found to their cost, when they encountered 



IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 433 

the Flatterer, by whom there can be little doubt 
that Bunyan intended to represent another enemy 
of justication by faith, under the guise of spiritual 
pride, a good opinion of themselves, and a reliance 
for salvation upon their own duties and degree of 
advancement in the spiritual life. This Flatterer 
led them in a way so like the right way at first, 
that they thought it was the right way, but so 
adroitly and insensibly did he decieve them, that 
at length their faces were turned from, instead of 
towards, the Celestial City, and then the white robe 
fell from his back, and disclosed his native black- 
ness and deformity. Then also he threw a strong 
net over them, and left them to struggle in it, 
unable to get out. By such difficulties do men 
always become entangled, who leave the way of 
simple reliance on Christ and his righteousness. 

There is also in our day a flattering delusion, 
by which this black man in white may be repre- 
sented, which is the doctrine of perfection attained 
by saints in this world, which doctrine, by its fos- 
tering of pride and self-righteousness, has set 
many a man with his face from instead of towards 
the Celestial City. A man eager after spiritual 
attainments does certainly seem to be in the high 
road to heaven ; but if he makes those attain- 
ments, instead of Christ, his Saviour, then cer- 
tainly his face is turned, and his feet are tending 
the other way. So we need to be upon our watch 
against any thing and every thing, though it should 
come to us in the shape of an angel of light, 
which would turn us from a sole reliance upon 
Christ, or tempt us to a high opinion of ourselves. 



434 THE CHARACTERS OF 

A broken heart and a contrite spirit are, in the 
sight of God of great price, but if any man thinks 
himself to have attained perfection, he is not very 
likely to be in the exercise of a broken heart or of 
a contrite spirit, nor indeed in the exercise of true 
faith in Christ for justification. 

You will observe that this Flatterer, robed in 
white, pretending to great strictness, spirituality 
and holiness, carried the Pilgrims seemingly on- 
wards towards the Celestial City, but left them 
with their faces direct from Zion, instead of hea- 
venward. Now this has been the case with so 
many persons, who have at first professed to have 
attained perfection, and believed that they sought 
it, that it would seem as if Bunyan must have had 
in his eye the very error we are contemplating. 
From the belief in one's own perfection, it is 
often but a single step to the monstrous conclu- 
sion that the soul cannot sin, that whatever the 
body does, the soul cannot be defiled thereby, or 
made guilty ; that the law of God is no more a 
rule of conduct, and that its commands may be 
broken at pleasure without sin. This is doubtless 
one tendency of a self-righteous spirit. They who 
trust simply and solely in Christ and his righteous- 
ness for salvation have often been accused by self- 
righteous moralists, of " making void the law ;" but 
in point of fact, it is they only who establish the 
law ; it is nothing but the love of Christ, and Faith 
in his merits, in his blood, that ever produces any 
morality required by the law. On the other hand, 
they who trust in their own merits, and they who 
pretend to a perfection of their own, are always 



IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 435 

perverting, and so making void, both the law and 
the Gospel, and sometimes they do openly and 
plainly trample all its requisitions under their feet* 
So true it is, that pride goeth before destuction, 
and an haughty spirit before a fall. 

Our entire reliance upon Christ as himself, our 
Saviour, our only Saviour, is beautifully expressed 
in one of Herbert's sweet though quaint pieces, 
entitled, The Hold-Fast. Christ is the Hold-Fast ; 
He is the fast and firm Holder of what is ours ; but 
what is ours is his, and ours only as it comes from 
him, so that we have nothing in ourselves, even to 
trust in him being his. V/hat is ours in ourselves 
is weakness and sin ; what is ours in him is 
strength and righteousness ; so he is our Hold- 
Fast. 

I threatened to observe the strict decree 

Of my dear God with all my power and might : 

But I was told by one it could not be : 
Yet I might trust in God to be my light. 

Then will I trust, said I, in him alone, 

Nay, e'en to trust in him was also his : 
We must confess that nothing is our own. 

Then I confess that he my succour is. 

But to have nought is ours, not to confess 

That we have nought. I stood amazed at this, 
Much troubled, till I heard a friend express, 
That all things were ours by being his. 
What Adam had and forfeited for all, 
Christ keepeth now, who cannot fail or fall. 

While Christian and Hopeful were struggling 
in this net, there came a bright Shining One, with 
a whip of small cord in his hand, who questioned 
them as to how they came there, and what they 
were doing. When they had told all, and had 
56 



436 THE CHARACTERS OF 

been reminded that if they had diligently perused 
the note of the way given them by the Shepherds, 
they would not have fallen into this snare ; this 
Shining One made them lie down, and submit to a 
sore, though loving chastisement. By this is 
figured the discipline of the good Spirit of the 
Lord with his children, when they in any manner 
go astray, and also the loving kindness of the Lord, 
even in the chastisement of his people. As many 
as I love, I rebuke and chasten. He restoreth my 
soul, saith David, and leadeth me in the paths of 
righteousness for his name's sake. So were these 
two erring disciples, who had now insensibly been 
beguiled away from Christ and his righteousness 
into flattering, delusive opinions of their own attain- 
ments, whipped back by the Shining One into the 
path of humility, faith, truth, and duty. So great 
is " the love of the Spirit," so sweet and long-suf- 
fering the patience and the mercy of the Lord. 

Few passages are more instructive than that 
which in this stage of the pilgrimage contains the 
character of Little-Faith, and the story of the rob- 
bery he suffered. This man fell asleep in Dead- 
Man's Lane, not far from Broadway Gate. He 
had certainly no business in that place, where so 
many murders were committed, and to sleep 
there was above all unsafe. So three desperate 
villains, Faint-Heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, set upon 
him, and robbed him of all his ready money, and 
left him half dead. There are a great many 
Little-Faiths in our pilgrimage, and though they 
do not all sleep in Dead-Man's Lane, yet they go 
doubting and trembling through life. Faint-Heart, 



IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 437 

Mistrust, and Guilt clog their footsteps, and their 
faith in Christ is not strong enough to triumph 
over these enemies and make them flee. So they 
go burdened with sin, and literally mourning after 
Christ, rather than believing in him. Yet, this 
mourning after Christ is something precious ; it 
is infinitely better than hardness and indifference 
of heart, or false security, and infinitely better, 
also, than a dangerous, false confidence, or a joy 
that has not a scriptural foundation. 

Little-Faith had a tender conscience, which 
made him bewail his sinful sleep, and all his fail- 
ings by the way. Little-Faith's spending money, 
that is, almost all the present comfort of a hope in 
Christ, with those foretastes of heaven, which are 
the earnest of the Spirit, was taken from him by 
those desperate robbers ; but his costly jewels they 
did not find, or else did not value them, as they 
were good only at the Celestial City ; that is, these 
robbers, Faint-Heart, Mistrust, and Guilt, did not 
take away those graces of the Spirit, by which 
Little-Faith's soul was really united to Christ, 
though they did steal from him his own present 
evidences, so that he went on distressed and trou- 
bled in his pilgrimage, and a beggar to the day of 
his death. 

There was one good thing about Little-Faith, 
and that was his sincerity ; he had indeed little 
faith, but what he had was real faith, and no 
trust in his own merits. Now, if from our faith 
as Christians, all foreign ingredients were ab- 
stracted, all mixture of self-righteousness and vain- 
confidence, it is to be feared very few of us would 



438 THE CHARACTERS OF 

be found with much to boast above Little-Faith ; if 
every thing were taken from the grace which we 
hope is in our hearts, but only what is "believing, 
true, and clean," what is sincere, without offence, 
and pure before God, the residue might be found 
but a very small modicum. Should all the wood, 
hay and stubble be burned up, which we have 
builded on the foundation that is laid for us, how 
much gold, silver, and precious stones would be 
found remainining, we might fear to know. If Guilt, 
Mistrust and Faint-Heart were to set upon us as 
they did upon Little-Faith, would they take merely 
our spending money, and leave us our jewels, or 
would they take jewels and all 1 

Hopeful seemed to think if he had been in Lit- 
tle-Faith's place, he would not have given up so 
easily; but Christian bade him beware of self- 
confidence, for it was a very different thing to hear 
of these villains who attacked Little-Faith, and to 
be attacked by them oneself. No man could 
tell the wonderful fearfulness of that combat, but 
he who has been in it. Great-Grace himself, by 
w T hose coming up the desperate rogues were fright- 
ened away from Little-Faith, though excellent 
good at his weapons, would very likely get a fall, 
if Guilt, Faint-Heart and Mistrust got within him, 
not being kept at his sword's point ; and when a 
man is down, and three such wretches upon him, 
what can he do 1 Peter once thought he would 
never give up ; he was ready to try what he could 
do even to go to prison and to death, but when these 
grim robbers came upon him, "though some do say 
that he is the Prince of the Apostles, they handled 



IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 439 

him so, that they made him at last afraid of a sorry- 
girl." So there is no help, trust, strength, or safety 
for us but in Christ, in his great grace in us, 
upon us, and for us. Great-Grace must be our 
champion, as he was Little-Faith's, or it is all over 
with us. 

Little-Faith dwelt in the town of Sincere, and his 
sincerity was a very precious thing in him, for the 
Lord looketh on the heart, and on the man who 
trembleth at his word. Moreover, our blessed 
Lord hath said, that he will not break the bruised 
reed, nor quench the smoking flax ; and where there 
is smoke, as with Little-Faith, there was but little 
else, so that he was under a cloud all the while, 
stifled as it were, with the smoke of his evidences, 
and seeking in vain to find his own fire, yet there is 
hope of a blaze ; it will break out at last, and 
burn brightly. So if a man can but say, Lord, I 
believe, help thou mine unbelief, if he says this sin- 
cerely, he need never be discouraged ; let him hope 
in the Lord. Little-Grace can trust in Christ, and 
Great-Grace can do no more ; and if " one promise 
doth belong to thee," says an excellent old writer, 
" then all do ; for every one conveys a whole Christ; 
and Christ will acknowledge thee to be his, if he 
sees but one mark of his child upon thee in truth 
and sincerity. For God brings not a pair of scales 
to weigh your graces, and if they be too light 
refuseth them ; but he brings a touch-stone to try 
them ; and if they be pure gold, though never so 
little of it, it will pass current with him; though it 
be but smoke, not flame, though it be but as a wick 
in the socket, (as the original hath it,) likelier to 



440 THE CHARACTERS OF 

die and go out, than continue, which we use to 
throw away ; yet he will not quench it, but accept 
it." This is a sweet comforting truth, but let it 
not be turned to indolence or licentiousness ; 
for if a man would have God to work out his salva- 
tion for him, he must also be willing and industrious 
to work it out himself with fear and trembling. 

The next character which the Pilgrims met with 
in their way to the City, after, by the help of the 
Shining One, they had escaped the net of the Flat- 
terer, was an open, broad, blaspheming Atheist. 
He pretended to have been twenty years seeking 
the Celestial City, and had not found it, and now 
he knew there was no such thing in existence, and 
was determined to take his full swing of the plea- 
sures of this life, to make amends for all the labor 
he had undergone. There is no doubt that Bun- 
yan had met with such characters ; they are to be 
found sometimes now ; and dangerous indeed they 
are to the young and inexperienced. This man 
Atheist reminds me of a professed preacher of the 
Gospel, but a denier of our Lord's Divinity and 
Atonement, to whom I referred as having been 
settled over one of Mr. Legality's parishes, who 
had been in early life the subject of many and 
strong religious impressions, but had denied the 
faith, and become worse than an infidel. This man 
used to say, just as Atheist to Christian and Hope- 
ful, though not that there was no Celestial City, yet 
that there was no need of such a laborious pilgrim- 
age to come at it, for that he had been through 
all this pretended religious experience, and knew 
it to be all nonsense, a perfectly needless and 



TGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 441 

foolish trouble. " The lips of a fool will swallow 
up himself. The beginning of the words of his 
mouth is foolishness, and the end of his talk mis- 
chievous madness. He knoweth not how to go to 
the City." This fool Atheist lost his labor with 
Christian and Hopeful, for they had seen the Gate 
of the Celestial City from the top of the Delectable 
Mountains. So when temptations to unbelief and 
Atheism beset the Christian, he may very pro- 
perly throw himself back upon his past experience 
of God's loving kindness, when the candle of the 
Lord shined upon him, and he could see afar off. 
So David, in trouble and darkness, remembered 
God from such and such a place, when he had com- 
manded deliverance, and he knew he would com- 
mand it again. 

But now the Pilgrims enter on the Enchanted 
Ground. The air of that region tends to such 
drowsiness, that it disposed the Pilgrims to lie 
down at once and sleep ; and Hopeful would have 
done so, had it not been for the warnings of Chris- 
tian, who bade his brother remember what the good 
Shepherds had told them. Hopeful was inclined 
to say with Paul, " I only and Barnabas, have not 
we power to forbear working]" May I not lie down 
and take a short nap ? said Hopeful. Sleep is 
refreshing to the laboring man, and I can scarcely 
hold my eyes open. Ah, these short naps for Pil- 
grims ! The sleep of death, in the Enchanted 
Air of this world, usually begins with one of these 
short naps. 

Sleeping here, there is no safety ; for if you 
give way to your almost irresistible inclination, it 



442 THE CHARATERS OF 

becomes more irresistible, you are in imminent 
danger of the lethargy of spiritual death. Where- 
fore, beware of spiritual indolence ; it is a gradual, 
but fearful and powerful temptation. Wherefore, 
let us not sleep, as do others ; but let us watch and 
be sober. O beware of a lukewarm formality in 
your spiritual exercises, especially in prayer, in 
family prayer, in secret prayer. And rest not in 
the form, but pray earnestly to God to infuse more 
life and earnestness in your devotions, to give you 
a more vivid view and sense of eternal realities, 
to wake you up, and to shake from you this sloth, 
and to make you vigorous and fervent in spirit. 
This is what is needed, for in this Enchanted 
Ground of indolence and spiritual slumber you 
must, though it crucify your own flesh, resist this 
dangerous inclination to sleep. 

This desire to slumber is sometimes an indica- 
tion of spiritual coldness, rather than of spiritual 
fatigue, for those who have been exercising 
themselves vigorously are not apt to feel it ; so 
that it indicates a state in the soul, like that which 
takes place in the body, when a person is near 
perishing in the snow. There is an account in 
the voyages of some of our early circumnavigators 
about the globe, of a danger of this kind that came 
upon them when travelling in a certain frozen 
region, which I always think of when I come to 
this place in the Pilgrim's Progress. The surgeon 
of the company, a man of great skill and firm- 
ness, warned his companions that they would feel 
a great inclination to sleep, but that so sure as they 
gave way to it, they would die in it, for no power 



IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 443 

on earth could wake them. But if I remember 
right, this very surgeon, Dr. Solander, was one of 
the first to be overcome with this irresistible desire 
to sleep ; and had they not, by main force, kept 
him from it, he would have lain down in the cold, 
and slept, and died. Now, when this inclination to 
spiritual slumber is the result of spiritual coldness, 
a man is in danger indeed. It is time to bestir 
yourself, for if you yield to this propensity, it is 
most likely that death will overtake you in it. 
Wherefore rouse up, and walk on, and beat your- 
self, if need be, and call earnestly upon God to save 
you, and Christ will be your guide. 

The way Christian and Hopeful took to avoid 
this danger was excellent and very instructive. 
They sang and conversed together, and Hopeful 
related to Christian the deeply interesting ac- 
count of his own Christian experience. While 
they were thus musing, singing and talking, the 
fire burned, and the danger grew less and less, 
the more they became interested. So sweet is 
heavenly conversation between Christians, so good 
to warm and enliven the heart. No wonder, where 
there is so little of it, and so much and constant 
vain and trifling talk on the vanities of this world, 
that there should be so much spiritual coldness. 
Some men are all ear and tongue in earthly things, 
conversable and social in the highest degree on the 
business, arts, and manners of this world, but when 
it comes to things of spiritual experience, when 
it comes to that exhortation, Let your speech be 
always with grace, seasoned with salt, ah, how 
little salt is there! Attic salt, as the world calls 
57 



444 THE CHARACTERS OF 

it, there may be, plenty of it ; wit and learning, 
and common gossip in abundance; but of the salt 
of grace, hardly enough to keep the talk from the 
dunghill. This is sad, and yet true. But Chris- 
tian conversation, warm from the heart, is a pre- 
cious means of life, and the means, sometimes, of 
opening the prison doors, and bringing out a sleeper. 
Bunyan's lines are as true as they are pithy : 

Saints' fellowship, if it be managed well, 
Keeps them awake, and that in spite of hell. 

Such conversation as that of Christian and 
Hopeful is full of awakening and edifying power. 

Hopeful gave Christian an account of his own 
conversion, and seldom indeed has there ever been 
a description of the workings of conscience, and 
the leadings and discipline of Divine Providence 
and Grace with an individual soul bringing it to 
repentance, in which the points and main course of 
conviction, conversion, and Christian experience, 
have been brought out with such beautiful distinct- 
ness and power. Is is very instructive to trace them 
in Hopeful's relation. He was first awakened by 
the life and death of Faithful in Vanity Fair. 
Many a conscience can answer to the truth of 
his enumeration of the occasions and times in 
which, even in his unconverted state, he used to 
remember God, and be troubled. Heart-frightening 
hours of conviction he had upon him, and many 
things would bring his sins to mind ; as, if he did 
but meet a good man in the streets, or if he heard 
any one read in the Bible; or if his head did begin 
to ache; or if he were told that some of his neigh- 



TGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FATTH. 445 

bors were sick ; or if he heard the bell toll for some 
that were dead ; or if he thought of dying him- 
self; or if he heard that sudden death happened to 
others ; but especially when he thought of himself, 
that he must come to judgment. So there was 
continually, as with all wicked men, a dreadful sound 
in Hopeful's ears. The truth is, the Ocean of Eter- 
nity will make itself heard. And there is a low 
wailing sound, as of spirits in torment, always 
wafted across it to the inhabitants of this world, as 
well as the voice of the spirits in bliss, saying, 
Come up hither ! 

These things set Hopeful upon an effort to 
amend his life, for otherwise, thought he, I am 
sure to be damned. So he betook himself to 
praying, reading, weeping for sin, speaking the 
truth to his neighbors, and many other things, and 
thus, for a little season, succeeded in lulling and 
satisfying conscience. But again his difficulties 
were renewed, and his trouble came tumbling upon 
him, and that over the neck of all his reformation. 
Such sentences as these sounded in his ears ; By 
the works of the law shall no man be justified ; and 
He that offendeth in one point is guilty of all. 
Moreover, Hopeful found that no present reforma- 
tion would wipe off the score of past sins, and 
indeed he could get no relief but in Christ. By 
Faithful's directions, he went to the mercy-seat, 
and pleaded with God to reveal Christ unto him ; 
and though he was tempted to give up praying, an 
hundred times twice told, yet he persevered, till in 
that saying, Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and 
thou shalt be saved, he found peace ; he found that 



446 



THE CHARACTERS OF 



coming to Christ, and believing on him are all one. 
He found then to whom he must look for right- 
eousness, and what it was to trust in the merits of 
Christ, and what was meant when it was said that 
Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to 
every one that believeth. 

Hopeful's experience stands in a fine instruc- 
tive contrast with that of Ignorance ; the first 
shows the relish of the renewed heart for pure 
divine truth, and the secret of it ; the second shows 
the secret of the opposition of the unrenewed heart 
against that same divine truth in its purity. The 
pride of our nature is one of the last evils revealed 
to ourselves, and whatever goes against it, we do 
naturally count as our enemy. But Humility, 
learning of Christ, makes a different estimate, and 
counts as precious, beyond price, all that truth and 
virtue in the Gospel which abases self 



The soul, whose sight all quickening grace renews, 
Takes the resemblance of the good she views, 
As diamonds, stripped of their opaque disguise, 
Reflect the noon-day glory of the skies. 
She speaks of Him, her Author, Guardian, Friend, 
Whose love knew no beginning, knows no end, 
In language warm, as all that love inspires, 
And in the glow of her intense desires, 
Pants to communicate her noble fires. Cowphr. 



On the other hand, those who do not love God 
cannot expect to find in his Word a system of truth 
that will please their own hearts. A sinful heart 
can have no right views of God, and of course will 
have defective views of his Word ; for sin distorts 
the judgment, and overturns the balance of the 
mind on all moral subjects far more than even 



IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 447 

the best of men are aw are of. There is, there can 
be, no true reflection of God or of his Word from 
the bosom darkened with guilt, from the heart at 
enmity with him. That man will always look 
at God through the medium of his own selfishness, 
and at God's Word through the coloring of his own 
wishes, prejudices, and fears. 

A heart that loves the Saviour, and rejoices in 
God as its Sovereign, reflects back in calmness 
the perfect view of his character, which it finds in 
his Word. Behold, on the borders of a mountain 
lake, the reflection of the scene above received into 
the bosom of the lake below ! See that crag pro- 
jecting, the wild flowers that hang out from it, and 
bend as if to gaze at their own forms in the water 
beneath. Observe that plot of green grass above, 
that tree springing from the cleft, and over all, the 
quiet sky reflected in all its softness and depth from 
the lake's steady surface. Does it not seem as if 
there were two heavens 1 How perfect the re- 
flection ! And just as perfect and clear and free 
from confusion and perplexity is the reflection of 
God's character, and of the truths of his Word 
from the quietness of the heart that loves the Sa- 
viour and rejoices in his supreme and sovereign 
glory. 

Now look again. The wind is on the lake, and 
drives forward its waters in crested and impetuous 
w r aves, angry and turbulent. Where is that sweet 
image 1 There is no change above : the sky is 
clear, the crag projects as boldly, the flowers look 
just as sweet in their unconscious simplicity ; but 
below, banks, trees and skies are all mingled in 



448 THE CHARATERS OF 

confusion. There is just as much confusion in 
every unholy mind's idea of God and his blessed 
Word. God and his truth are always clear, always 
the same ; but the passions of men fill their own 
hearts with obscurity and turbulence ; their depra- 
vity is itself obscurity, and through all this perplex- 
ity and wilful ignorance they contend that God is 
just such a being as they behold him, and that 
they are very good beings in his sight. We have 
heard of a defect in the bodily vision, that represents 
all objects upside down : that man would cer- 
tainly be called insane, who, under the influence 
of this misfortune, should so blind his understand- 
ing, as to believe and assert that men walked 
on their heads, and that the trees grew down- 
wards. Now, it is not a much greater insanity 
for men who in their hearts do not love God, 
and in their lives perhaps insult and disobey him, 
to give credit to their own perverted misrepresen- 
tations of him and of his Word. As long a» 
men will continue to look at God's truth through 
the medium of their own pride and prejudice, 
so long they will have mistaken views of God 
and eternity, so long will their own self-right- 
eousness look better to them for a resting place 
than the glorious righteousness of Him, who of 
God is made unto us our Wisdom, Righteousness, 
Sanctification and Redemption. 

Such an one is the mere " natural man (who) 
receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God : for 
they are foolishness unto him : neither can he know 
them, for they are spiritually discerned." He has 
not the proper discipline and preparation of heart — 



IGNORANCE AND LITTLE-FAITH. 449 

the pure and fitting tastes for these higher and 
better things. He has dwelt in a low earthly region 
until his whole being has become conformed to low 
and earthly objects; and his dimmed and distorted 
vision cannot see the bright heaven above him. As 
well might the untutored eye of him who hath al- 
ways been laboring in the dark and dusty mines 
under ground, attempt to judge of the beauty of 
colors, and to determine the rules of art. Such an 
one is justly called Ignorance, and his self-confi- 
dence only serves the more to set off the barrenness 
and grovelling tastes of his soul. The more confi- 
dent and dogmatical he is, the more an object of 
pity does he become to good angels and spiritual 
men, and of contempt and mockery to lost spirits. 
His boastfulness is only the strong symptom of his 
insanity, and the sure token of his perdition. 

On the other hand, he who hath renounced his 
self-righteousness, and, with a broken and contrite 
heart, hath fled for refuge to the righteousness of 
Christ, he hath found a clear vision and noble and 
rational tastes. Now he despises and loathes the 
objects which he before admired and loved, and lifts 
up his rejoicing eye to behold the beautiful scenery 
of the green and smiling earth, and the quiet lake 
reflecting the happy heavens, and he sees the happy 
heavens themselves, from whence the reflection 
comes. Justly is this one called Hopeful. The things 
which he hath chosen are not in the present, but 
they open to him in the blessed future. He hopes 
for them, and he hopes not in painful doubtfulness, 
but in the sweet assurance of the faith which hath 
brought him to Christ. 



450 THE CHARACTERS, &C._ 

Abba, Father! send forth the Spirit of thy dear 
Son into our hearts, that we, being made humble, 
believing, and holy, may ever give back a serene, 
unsullied reflection of thy Truth and Love ! 
Blessed is that Spirit of Adoption I Grant that 
we all, in its possession, may be made the children 
of God by faith in Christ Jesus. May we, through 
the Spirit, wait for the hope of righteousness 
by Faith : remembering that in Jesus Christ 
neither circumcision availeth any thing, nor uncir- 
cumcision, but Faith, which worketh by Love. 
For we are made partakers of Christ, if we hold 
the beginning of our confidence steadfast unto the 
end. 

Oft as I look upon the road 

That leads to yonder blest abode^ 

I feel distressed and fearful : 

So many foes the passage throng, 

I am so weak and they so strong, 

How can my soul be cheerful ! 

But when I think ©f Him, whose power 
Can save me in a trying hour, 

And place on Him reliance, 
My soul is then ashamed of fear ; 
And though ten thousand foes appear, 

I'll bid them all defiance. 

The dangerous road 1 then pursue, 
And keep the glorious prize in view, 

With joyful hope elated ; 
Strong in the Lord, in Him alone, 
Where he conducts, I follow on, 

With ardour unabated, 

O Lord, each day renew my strength, 
And let me see thy face at length, 

With all thy people yonder : 
With them in heaven thy love declare, 
And sing thy praise for ever there, 

With gratitude and wonder, 



THE 

LAND BEULAH 



AND THE 



RIVER OF DEATH 



Gradual progress of the Pilgrims from strength to strength. — Their enjoyment in the 
Land Beulah. — Similar experience of Dr. Payson. — Beauty and glory of the close 
of the Pilgrim's Progress.— Fear of Death by the Pilgrims.— Bunyan's own expe- 
rience. — Why Death is the King of Terrors. — Dying is but going home for the 
Christian. — Death-beds of believers and unbelievers contrasted. — Christian in- 
stances in Fuller, Pearce, Janeway, Payson, and others. — Blessedness of such a 
death. — Necessity of a preparation for it in life.— What constitutes the Land 
Beulah. — Sweetness and preciousness of a close walk with God. — Solemn lesson 
from the fate of Ignorance. — No safety but in Christ. 

We are come now, in our pilgrimage, as far as 
to the Land Beulah. Would that we were all 
there in reality, and could abide there while we 
stay this side of the River of Death. But the 
Land Beulah, lovely as it is, is only one stage 
in our pilgrimage, and that a very advanced stage. 
And it is observable how Bunyan makes his Pil- 
grims go from strength to strength, by a gradual 
progress, from one degree of grace, discipline, and 
glory to another, in accordance with that sweet 
scripture image, " The path of the Just is as a 
shining light, that shineth more and more unto the 
perfect day." So the Pilgrims go from strength to 
strength, every one of thern in Zion appearing 
before God. They first, from the House Beautiful, 
57 



452 THE LAND BEULAH 

had a view of the Delectable Mountains ; then, 
from the Delectable Mountains, they had a view of 
the Celestial City ; then in the Land Beulah, they 
even meet with the inhabitants of that City. In 
this land they also hear voices coming out of the 
City, and theydraw so near to it that the view of its 
glory is almost overpowering. Would to God that 
we all did better know the meaning of these images 
by our own blissful experience ; for certainly the 
imagination alone cannot interpret them to us. A 
very near, deep, blissful communion with God is 
here portrayed, and that beholding as in a glass 
the glory of the Lord, by which daily the soul is 
changed more and more into the same image. Here 
the ministering spirits that do wait upon us are 
more frequent and full in their companies. Here 
the Spirit of Adoption is breathed over the soul, 
and it walks and talks with Christ, almost as 
Moses and Elias in the Mount of Transfiguration. 
No other language than that of Bunyan himself, 
perused in the pages of his own sweet book, could 
be successful in portraying this beauty and glory; 
for now he seems to feel that all the dangers of the 
pilgrimage are almost over, and he gives up himself 
without restraint so entirely to the sea of bliss that 
surrounds him, and to the gales of heaven that are 
wafting him on, and to the sounds of melody that 
float in the whole air around him, that nothing in 
the English language can be compared with this 
whole closing part of the Pilgrim's Progress, for its 
entrancing splendor, yet serene and simple loveli- 
ness. The coloring is that of heaven in the soul, and 
Bunyan has poured his own heaven-entranced soul 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 453 

into it. With all its depth and power, there is 
nothing exaggerated, and it is made up of the 
simplest and most scriptural materials and images. 
We seem to stand in a flood of light poured on us 
from the open gates of Paradise. It falls on every 
leaf and shrub by the way-side ; it is reflected from 
the crystal streams, that between grassy banks 
wind amidst groves of fruit-trees into vineyards 
and flower-gardens. These fields of Beulah are 
just below the gate of heaven ; and with the light of 
heaven there come floating down the melodies of 
heaven, so that here there is almost an open reve- 
lation of the things which God hath prepared for 
them that love him. 

During the last days of that eminent man of 
God, Dr. Payson, he once said, "When I formerly 
read Bunyan's description of the Land of Beulah, 
where the sun shines and the birds sing day and 
night, I used to doubt whether there was such a 
place ; but now my own experience has convinced 
me of it, and it infinitely transcends all my previous 
conceptions." The best possible commentary on 
the glowing descriptions in Bunyan is to be found 
in that very remarkable letter dictated by Dr. Pay- 
son to his sister a few weeks before his death. 
" Were I to adopt the figurative language of Bun- 
yan, I might date this letter from the land Beulah, 
of which I have been for some w T eeks a happy 
inhabitant. The Celestial City is full in my view. 
Its glories have been upon me, its breezes fan me, 
its odors are wafted to me, its sounds strike upon 
my ears, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. 
Nothing separates me from it but the River of 



454 THE LAND BEULAH 

Death, which now appears but as an insignificant 
rill, that may be crossed at a single step, whenever 
God shall give permission. The Sun of Righte- 
ousness has been gradually drawing nearer and 
nearer, appearing larger and brighter as he ap- 
proached, and now he fills the whole hemisphere ; 
pouring forth a flood of glory, in which I seem to 
float like an insect in the beams of the sun ; ex- 
ulting, yet almost trembling, while I gaze on this 
excessive brightness, and wondering with unuttera- 
ble wonder, why God should deign thus to shine 
upon a sinful worm." 

There is perhaps, in all our language, no record 
of a Christian's happiness before death, so striking 
as this. What is it not worth to enjoy such con- 
solations as these in our pilgrimage, and especially 
to experience such foretastes of heaven as we draw 
near to the River of Death ; such revelations of 
God in Christ as can swallow up the fears and 
pains of dying, and make the soul exult in the 
vision of a Saviour's loveliness, the assurance of 
a Saviour's mercy. There is no self-denial, no 
toil, no suffering in this life which is worthy to be 
compared for a moment with such blessedness. 

It is very remarkable that Bunyan has, as it 
were, attempted to lift the veil from the grave, from 
eternity, in the beatific closing part of the Pilgrim's 
Progress, and to depict what passes, or may be 
supposed to pass, with the souls of the righteous, 
immediately after death. There is a very familiar 
verse of Watts, founded on the unsuccessful effort 
of the mind to conceive definitely the manner of 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 455 

that existence into which the immortal spirit is to 
be ushered. 

In vain the fancy strives to paint 

The moment after death, 
The glories that surround the saint 

In yielding up his breath. 

The old poet, Henry Vaughan, in his fragment on 
Heaven in prospect, refers to the same uncertainty, 
in stanzas that, though somewhat quaint, are very 
striking. 

Dear, beauteous Death, the jewel of the just, 

Shining no where but in the dark, 
What mysteries do lie beyond thy dust, 

Could man outlook that mark ! 
He that hath found some fledg'd bird's nest, may know 

At first sight if the bird be flown, 
But what fair field or grove he sings in now 

That is to him unknown. 
And yet, as angels in some brighter dreams 

Call to the soul when man doth sleep, 
So some strange thoughts transcend our wonted themes, 

And into glory peep. 

Indeed, our most definite views of that glory is but 
a glimpse, a guess, a look as through a dim glass 
darkly, and what we know of the intermediate or im- 
mediate state of untabernacled souls is but little and 
in part. Perhaps the most general conception is 
that of an immediate, instantaneous transition 
into the vision and presence of God and the Lamb. 
But Bunyan has with great beauty and probability 
brought in the ministry of angels, and regions of 
the air, to be passed through in their company, 
rising and still rising, higher and higher, before 
they come to that mighty mount, on which he 
has placed the gates of the Celestial City. The 
angels receive his Pilgrims as they come up from the 



456 THE LAND BEULAH 

River of Death, and form for them a bright, glit- 
tering, seraphic, loving convoy, whose conversa- 
tion prepares them gradually for that exceeding 
and eternal weight of glory, which is to be theirs 
as they enter in at the Gate. Bunyan has thus, in 
this blissful passage from the River to the Gate, 
done what no other devout writer, or dreamer, or 
speculator, that we are aware of, has ever done ; 
he has filled what perhaps in most minds is a mere 
blank, a vacancy, or at most a bewilderment and 
mist of glory, with definite and beatific images, 
with natural thoughts, and with the sympathising 
communion of gentle spirits, who form, as it were, 
an outer porch and perspective of glory, through 
which, the soul passes into uncreated light. Bun- 
yan has thrown a bridge, as it were, for the imagi- 
nation over the deep, sudden, open space of an 
untried spiritual existence, where it finds ready to 
receive the soul that leaves the body, ministering 
spirits, sent forth to minister unto them who are to 
be heirs of salvation. 

These ministering spirits he can describe, with 
the beauty and glory of their form and garments, 
and the ravishing sweetness of their conversation; 
he can also describe the feelings of the Pilgrims in 
such company, and their glorious progress up throgh 
the regions of the air to their eternal dwelling-place. 
He can image to us their warm thoughts about the 
reception they are to meet with in the City, and 
the blessedness of beholding "the King in his 
beauty," and of dwelling with such glorious com- 
pany forever and ever ; but Bunyan goes no far- 
ther ; he does not attempt to describe, or even sha- 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 457 

dow forth their meeting with the Lord God Al- 
mighty and the Lamb in that Celestial City. This 
would have been presumption. He has gone as 
far as the purest devotion, and the sweetest poetry 
could go, as far as an imagination kindled, in- 
formed, and sustained by the Holy Scriptures, 
could carry us ; he has set us down amidst the 
ministry and conversation of angels, at the Gate of 
the City, and as the Gate opens to let in the Pil- 
grims, he lets us look in ourselves ; but farther nor 
revelation nor imagination traces the picture. 

But in all the untrodden space which Bunyan 
has thus filled up, he has authority as well as pro- 
bability on his side. For our blessed Lord said of 
the good man Lazarus, that when he died he was 
carried by the angels into Abraham's bosom, that 
is, into the abode of the blessed. It is not said 
that the instant Lazarus died he was with Christ in 
glory, but the mind has an intermediate transac- 
tion, a passage, a convoy, to rest upon; "he teas 
carried by angels;" there is time occupied, and a 
passage from this existence to the sight of God and 
the eternal life of glory, which passage Bunyan 
has filled up with the utmost probability, as well as 
with an exquisite warmth and beauty of imagery, 
which finds no rival in the language. The de- 
scription comes from the heart, and from an imagi- 
nation fed, nourished, and disciplined by the Scrip- 
tures ; and this is the secret of its power, the secret 
of the depth and heavenly glow of its ravishing 
colors, and of the emotions with which it stirs the 
soul even to tears. For it is almost impossible in a 
right frame of heart, to read this description with- 



458 THE LAND BEULA1I 

out weeping, especially that part of it where Chris- 
tian and Hopeful pass the River of Death together. 
How full of sweet feeling and Christian wisdom 
is this passage ! How gentle, and tenderly affec- 
tionate are Hopeful's efforts to encourage his 
fainting brother ! And how instructive the fact 
that here the older and more experienced Christian 
of the two, and that soldier in the Christian conflict 
who had the most scars upon him for Christ, should 
be the one to whom the passage of the River of 
Death was most difficult — instructive, as showing us 
that safety does not depend upon present comfort, 
but upon Christ, and that it is wrong to measure 
one's holiness and degree of preparation for death, 
by the degree in which the fear of death may have 
departed. The Pilgrims, especially Christian, 
began to despond in their mind when they came to 
the River. Notwithstanding that, the angels were 
with them, and though they had been for many days 
abiding in the Land Beulah, and though they were 
now in full view of the Celestial City, and though 
they heard the bells ringing, and the melodious 
music of the City ravishing their hearts, yet were 
their hearts cast down as they came to the borders 
of this river, and found no means of being carried 
across it. 

For timorous mortals start and shrink, 

To cross that narrow sea, 
And linger, shivering on the brink, 

And fear to launch away. 

They looked about them on this side and on that, 
and inquired of their shining seraphic companions 
if there were no other way of getting over the 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 459 

river, and they must go into it : and when told 
there was none, they were at a stand. With all 
the glory before them, it was death's cold flood 
still. The fear of death is not always taken 
away, even from experienced and faithful Chris- 
tians, nor is the passage without terrors. Chris- 
tian had much darkness and horror, while to 
Hopeful there was good ground all the way. 
Christian was wrong when he said, If I were 
right, He would now arise to help me ; for he 
had, as Hopeful told him, forgotten that it was 
of the wicked that God saith, There are no 
bands in their death. However, it is observable 
that Christian's darkness did not last quite over 
the River. The Saviour was at length revealed to 
him, the clouds and darkness fled away, the evil 
spirits, and the shades of unbelief that had invited 
and strengthened their temptations, were subdued 
and put to flight forever, and the Enemy after that 
was as still as a stone, and the rest of the River 
was but shallow. 

" Brother, I see the Gate," Hopeful would say, 
while Christian was sinking, " and men standing" 
by to receive us." But Christian would answer, 
" It is you, it is you, that they wait for ; you have 
been hopeful ever since I knew you." " And so 
have you," said he to Christian. What affecting 
simplicity, and faith and love in this last, stern, dark 
scene and conflict of their pilgrimage ! The Great 
Tempter and Accuser of the saints was busy now 
with Christian, as he had been under the form of 
Apollyon, and in the Valley of the Shadow of 
58 



460 THE LAND BEULAH 

Death. Bat this was his last opportunity forever, 
and his last desperate assault. 

If Bunyan, throughout this work, had been un- 
consciously throwing into his delineation of Chris- 
tian's character the features of his own religious 
experience, we may suppose that he drew this death 
scene also with a foreboding that his own soul 
would have to experience in the last mortal hour, 
another fearful conflict with the Adversary. But 
could he have returned into life, to paint the con- 
clusion of his own passage of the River of Death, 
there would have been little or no gloom in the 
coloring, for his own death was full of peace and 
glory ; his forebodings, if he had them, were 
never realized. We may suppose that in general 
the children of God find this passage much easier 
in reality than they had anticipated ; but it is only 
because Christ is with them ; he is with them in 
death, by a manifestation not granted in life, 
because not necessary. Yet, if there were as 
great conflicts to pass through in life, there 
would be as great and sustaining manifestations 
of the Saviour. In life and in death he know- 
eth how to succour them that are tempted. To 
those who live by the grace of Christ during 
life, dying grace will be vouchsafed in a dying 
hour ; for he hath said, My grace is sufficient for 
thee. 

It is appointed unto all men once to die, and after 
that the judgment. It is this judgment which sin- 
ful men dread ; it is this which makes Death the 
King of Terrors. The future is indeed an un- 
known region, but the judgment is as certain as 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 461 

the present life, and even beyond the judgment the 
sinner's conscience and the Word of God combined, 
fill the unknown future with definite scenes and 
images. The elements of retribution are there, 
and also the subjects of retribution, living, 
moving, acting, speaking, suffering. Our blessed 
Lord, in that mighty spiritual drama of the rich man 
and Lazarus, has raised before us, as it were, a 
vast, graphic, living transparency, where the glories 
of heaven and the terrors of hell flash upon the soul. 
Death stands between the sinner and the eternal 
world ; death hands him over to the elements of 
eternal retribution. The agonized conscience, 
not sprinkled with the blood of Christ, sees the 
fires of eternity glimmering through the grim 
monarch's shadowy skeleton form, as it rises and 
advances on the soul's horizon. Death, in such a 
case, is the King of Terrors. He marshals 
them at pleasure. He has but to stand before the 
frame of the unprepared mortal, and he curdles 
the blood and blanches the cheek, even of the 
Atheist. He has but to touch the frame of the 
boldest of God's enemies, and they are brought 
into desolation as in a moment ; they are utterly 
consumed with terrors. The Poet of The Grave 
has depicted, in a powerful and never-to-be-forgot- 
ten passage, the terrors of the unprepared soul in 
such a moment. 

How shocking must thy summons be, O death ! 

To him that is at ease in his possessions ; 

Who counting on long years of pleasure here, 

Is quite unfurnished for that world to come ! 
J In that dread moment, how the frantic soul 

j Raves round the walls of her clay tenenent, 



462 THE LAND BEULAH 

Runs to each avenue, and shrieks for help, 
But shrieks in vain ! How wishfully she looks 
On all she's leaving, now no longer hers ! 
A little longer, yet a little longer, 
O might she stay to wash away her stains, 
And fit her for her passage ! Mournful sight ! 
Her very eyes weep blood ; and every groan 
She heaves is big with horror. But the Foe, 
Like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose, 
Pursues her close through every lane of life, 
Nor misses once the track, but presses on, 
Till, forced at last to the tremendous verge, 
At once she sinks to everlasting ruin ! 

This is indeed dreadful. And yet, let Christ come 
in, let Christ stand by the King of Terrors, and 
there comes a death of which there is no fear, 
no terror connected with it. There are souls, on 
whose horizon, though Death's skeleton form comes 
striding, the light from eternity does but invest the 
form with glory. It is rather like the light of a clear 
sunset seen through the bars of a prison window, 
or through the foliage of a tree in the horizon. It 
is no more Death the Skeleton, but Death the 
Angel, a messenger of peace, mercy, love glory. 
There are souls that welcome him, for he opens 
the prison door, out of which they are to pass 
into a world of light ; out of a prison of flesh, 
sin, fear, doubt and bondage, into a celestial 
freedom in the perfection of holiness ; into love, 
praise, and blissful adoration, without any mixture 
of sin, any cloud or shadow of defilement, or any 
thing for ever and ever to mar or change the 
perfect peace and blessedness of the soul. To 
such souls, Death is but the Messenger, to take 
them before the throne of God in his likeness, to 
present them without spot, or wrinkle, or any such 
thing. Death is Life to such ; it is the being born 



AND THE. RIVER OF DEATH. 463 

out of a state of sinfulness, darkness, and wretched- 
ness in fallen humanity, into a condition of purity, 
light, and happiness, in a City where the glory of 
God doth lighten it, and the Lamb is the light 
thereof. There is no future terror, of which Death 
is King, in such a case. Dying is but going home. 
It was such a death, of which Paul spake, when he 
said that he desired to depart and to be with Christ. 
He was not then contemplating any images of 
terror. The future was to him filled with a glory, 
towards which his soul was pressing, and into 
which Death was to introduce him. 



If you, O Man ! of Death are bound in dread, 
Come to this chamber, sit beside this bed. 
See how the name of Christy breathed o'er the heart, 
Makes the soul smile at Death's uplifted dart. 

The air to sense is close that fills the room, 
But angel forms are waving through the gloom ; 
The feeble pulse leaps up, as 'twould expire, 
But Christ still watches the Refiner's fire. 

Life comes and goes, — the spirit lingers on ; 
'Tis over ! No ! the conflict's not quite done ; 
For Christ will work, till of life's sinful stain 
No spot nor wrinkle on the soul remain. 

He views his image now ! The victory's won ! 
The last dark shadow from his child is drawn. 
The veil is rent away. Eternal Grace ! 
The soul beholds its Saviour face to face ! 

Is this Death's seal ? Th' impression, O how fair I 
Look, what a radiant smile is playing there ! 
That was the soul's farewell : the sacred dust 
Awaits the Resurrection of the Just. 

Call not the mourners, when the Christian dies, 
While angels shout him welcome to the skies. 
Mourn rather for the living dead on earth, 
Who nothing care for his Celestial Birth. 



464 THE LAND BEULAH 

Death to the bedside came, his prey to hold, — 
All he could touch was but the earthly mould : 
This to its native ashes men convey ; — 
The freed Soul rises to Eternal Day ! 



And yet, in itself, Death is the self-same thing 
to the righteous as to the wicked. It is the same 
painful, convulsive separation between soul and 
body, sometimes attended with greater suffering, 
sometimes with less, bat always constituting the 
supreme last strife of agony endurable in this 
mortal tenement. But what an infinite difference, 
when all the circumstances of death, all forms and 
processes of disease, every kind and degree of 
pain and suffering, are ordered by the Saviour for 
the good of the soul ; when he sits over this 
furnace into which his child is cast, removing the 
dross, and watching for his own image ! What an 
infinite difference, when disease and pain are but 
as graving tools in his hand, with which he is 
giving symmetry and a perfect polish to the living 
stones, which he is to set in his temple, removing 
every imperfection, every wrinkle, every stain ! 
Death, in such a case, is but the last act of a 
Saviour's loving discipline with his 'people, the per- 
fection and consummation of his mercy. 

Some wicked men have suffered much less in 
dying, than some righteous men. One dieth in his 
full strength, being wholly at ease and quiet. Ano- 
ther dieth in the bitterness of his soul. They shall 
lie down alike in the dust, and the worms shall 
cover them. It would be interesting to draw a 
comparison between the deaths and the death-beds 
of a number of the most remarkable wicked men, 



AND RIVER OF DEATH. 465 

with an equal number of the most remarkable 
righteous men. The circumstances of disease, 
of mere material evil, are much the same, except 
that as material evils they are always aggravated 
by spiritual distress ; the pangs of conscience 
giving sharpness to the pangs of dissolving na- 
ture. Compare even the death-beds of Hume, 
Voltaire, and Paine, with those of Edwards, 
Brainard, Henry Martyn, and Payson, and you 
will find that there is not much to choose as to the 
physical pain of dying. Take the deaths of Herod 
and of Paul,, the one eaten of worms, consumed 
inwardly, and the last in all probability crucified, and 
there was about as much physical suffering and 
terror in the one death as in the other. Take the 
deaths of Nero and of John, the one is a suicide, 
the last dying quietly at a hundred years of age ; 
the pangs of dissolution in both cases were pro- 
bably very nearly equal. The death of the righ- 
teous is no more exempt from physical distress and 
suffering, than that of the wicked. 

Nor is the physical distress or suffering that in- 
gredient in death, which men particularly regard or 
fear. In reading of the death of a Christian, how 
little are our feelings distressed as to the depth and 
intensity of his bodily sufferings, so long as we 
have the conviction that God was with him, that 
Jesus Christ was his support. But in reading of 
the death-sufferings of a wicked man, or in wit- 
nessing such a death-bed, you are terribly affected 
by the spectacle of such physical pain. It is be- 
cause the misery of the soul is there ; there is 
nothing in this latter case to bear up the body, to 



466 THE LAND BEULAH 

proclaim the blessedness of the immortal part, even 
amidst the suffering of mortality ; on the contrary, 
mortality borrows suffering from the soul ; the body 
is doubly tortured in the hour of dissolution by the 
pangs of a wounded conscience. 

Hume would have died an easy death had his 
soul been at peace with God, and resting on his 
Saviour, although the disease and suffering of his 
body had remained the same. As it was, there was 
that ingredient in the suffering of his last hours 
which made his nurse ever after refuse attendance 
at the sick bed of a philosopher ! Voltaire would 
have suffered little, even had his physical sufferings 
remained the same, if in his last moments, instead 
of inward wrath of conscience, and forebodings 
of wrath to come, there had been the Christian's 
faith and sense of pardoned sin ; if instead of 
alternate blasphemies and prayers, there had been 
love to that Saviour, whom the infidel, amidst the 
admiration of his fellow-infidels, had dared to de- 
ride. But the stings of a wounded conscience 
give a sharpness to all mortal diseases, that nothing 
else can give, making even the common sufferings 
of sickness an intolerable weight of misery. 

On the otter hand, to a mind at peace with God, 
there is very little terror in physical sufferings. I 
had almost said, there is very little pain. Some- 
times indeed the dying pains of a holy man will be 
so great, as for a season to absorb all his attention ; 
but even then you feel that all this is nothing in 
comparison with the presence of Christ now, and 
the glory which shall be revealed. When Andrew 
Fuller was dying, he said to those around him, " It 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 467 

seems as if all bodily torture were concentrated 
in my frame." That was but for a moment, and it 
was outweighed by the faith of his soul, even while 
so concentrated and intense, that the powers of his 
being could fix on nothing else intently. When 
Payson was dying, his bodily sufferings were what 
would have been intense, had it not been for the 
flood of glory and happiness with which his soul 
was filled. His faith gave even to suffering a glory. 
When Mr. Pearce was dying, he said, after a rest- 
less night, " I have so much weakness and pain that 
I have not had much enjoyment ; but I have a full 
persuasion that the Lord is doing all things well." 
Now, here was a case, in which the pain of dying, 
the pain of the mortal disease, was so great, as 
materially to interfere with the positive enjoyment 
of the soul, but yet it added no terror ; the pain was 
sensibly experienced, but with such trust in God 
and such sweet resignation, that it gave Death, as 
the King of Terrors, no advantage. But if this 
same degree of pain had been experienced by a 
man without the consolations of the Gospel, a man 
dying unprepared for eternity, the anguish of the 
bodily suffering would have been incalculably more 
intense. The terrors of death do not belong neces- 
sarily to the pains of death ; they do to the wicked, 
but not to the righteous. 

Were the universe at the command of the soul, it 
would not be worth a grain of sand to a man dying 
without the consolations of the Gospel. Friends 
can do nothing in such a case ; the strongest affec- 
tion, though it be stronger than death, can be of no 
avail. But Christ can do every thing. The pre- 
59 



468 THE LAND BEULAH 

sence of Christ can overcome the sense of pain, 
and fill the soul with blessedness in the midst of it. 
Instances are not wanting of this, even amidst the 
unimaginable sufferings of being burned to death at 
the stake. 

I have before me two instances of this glory and 
power of Christ's presence in death ; the one in 
a very young Christian, the other in a saint of 
more advanced age and experience. When young 
Mr. Janeway, in England, was dying, his language 
was as follows : " O my friends, stand by and won- 
der; come, look upon a dying man. What manifes- 
tations of rich grace ! If I were never to enjoy more 
than this, it were well worth all the torments tha 
men and devils could invent, worth coming through 
even a hell to such transcendent joys as these. If 
this be dying, dying is sweet. Let no true Chris- 
tian ever be afraid of dying. Christ's smiles and 
visits, sure they would turn hell into heaven. Oh 
that you did but see and feel what I do ! Come and 
behold a dying man more cheerful than ever you 
saw any healthful man in the midst of his sweetest 
enjoyments." " Methinks I stand, as it were, with 
one foot in heaven, and the other upon earth. 
Methinks I hear the melody of heaven, and by faith 
I see the angels waiting to carry my soul to the 
bosom of Jesus, and I shall be forever with the 
Lord in glory. And who can choose but rejoice 
in all this ?" The pangs of death in this man 
were strong, but the exceeding and eternal weight 
of glory was so much stronger, that it quite absorbed 
his soul, and filled him with triumphant praises. 

Now what can an unbeliever do with such a 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 469 

case 1 Here is no opportunity for enthusiasm or 
mistake from animal sympathy or excitement, nor 
any external sources of support or happiness what- 
ever, nor any anodyne that can overcome the pre- 
sent sense of pain, or give buoyancy to the spirits, 
or provide material for the dreams of a youthful 
imagination, or set it in play in the presence of the 
King of Terrors. To the blind eye and gloomy 
reasoning sense of unbelief, here is nothing but 
pain, weakness, darkness, relinquishment of all the 
blessings of life, and a blank, drear vacancy in 
prospect. And yet, there is a mysterious, unseen, 
supernatural presence and power, a power of life 
and joy so upspringing, deep, and inextinguishable, 
so certain, sensible, and ecstatic, that this dying 
man, convulsed with pain, can say, If I were never 
to enjoy more than this, it were well worth all the 
torments that men and devils could invent, worth 
coming through even a hell, to such transcendent 
joys as these ! And this is Christ ! This it is to 
have a Saviour ! This is that Saviour's omnipo- 
tence and mercy ! Gloomy, self-torturing, unhappy 
infidel ! what hast thou to say to this ! 

Our second instance is the case of Dr. Payson. 
He once said, in his last illness : " I have suffered 
twenty times, — yes, to speak within bounds, — 
twenty times as much as I could in being burnt at 
the stake, while my joy in God so abounded, as to 
render my sufferings not only tolerable, but wel- 
come. The sufferings of this present time are not 
worthy to be compared with the glory that shall be 
revealed. God is my all in all. While he is 
present with me, no event can in the least diminish 



470 THE LAND BEULAH 

my happiness ; and were the whole world at my 
feet, trying to minister to my comfort, they could 
not add one drop to the cup." On another occa- 
sion he said, " Death comes every night and stands 
at my bedside in the form of terrible convulsions, 
every one of which threatens to separate the soul 
from the body. These continue to grow w T orse 
and worse, until every bone is almost dislocated 
with pain, leaving me with the certainty that I shall 
have it all to endure again the next night. Yet, 
while my body is thus tortured, the soul is perfectly 
happy, perfectly happy and peaceful, more happy 
than I can possibly express to you. I lie here, 
and feel these convulsions extending higher and 
higher, but my soul is filled with joy unspeakable. 
I seem to swim in a flood of glory, which God pours 
down upon me." 

This is wonderful. And so the dying Evarts 
exclaimed, borne down, or rather I should say, 
borne up by such a weight of glory. " Wonderful ! 
wonderful !" But here again there is nothing 
external, nothing visible, no earthly thing conceiv- 
able, as a source of such joy amidst suffering. 
These are the consolations of Christ, and in the 
presence of these infidelity stands stunned, aghast, 
and silent. They are not always granted so abun- 
dantly, in such triumphant, overpowering measure, 
even to the Lord's most faithful servants ; but if 
need be, they are, But even a little measure of 
them, a glimpse of the Saviour's countenance, and 
an assurance of his mercy, is enough to deprive 
death of his sting, to take away all his terrors, and 
to swallow him up in victory. " O Death, where is 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 471 

thy sting? O Grave, where is thy victory? The 
sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the 
law ; but thanks be to God, who giveth us the vic- 
tory, through our Lord Jesus Christ!" 

It might, on some accounts, seem strange that 
so few, if any, death-scenes of the apostles or pri- 
mitive disciples are left on record by divine inspira- 
tion. " They must have been eminently animating 
and instructive. But their whole life was a living 
death ; they died daily, and when we see them 
daily serving Christ, and daily desiring to depart 
and to be with Christ, the death-scene could add 
little to this testimony. St. Paul has given us, at 
the close of the fifteenth chapter of the first epistle 
to the Corinthians, and also throughout the eighth 
chapter of the epistle to the Romans, a picture be- 
forehand of the blessedness of Christ's servants in 
death. And the death-scene of the first martyr is 
given us in the Acts of the Apostles, with heaven 
opened, and the glory of God visible, and Jesus 
standing on the right hand of God ; and in the 
view of this vision, the dying Stephen is praying 
for his murderers. This was an example for all 
that should come after, both of the divine consola- 
tions, of which they might be sure in the hour of 
suffering and death, and of that divine spirit of 
forgiveness, in the exercise of which they must glo- 
rify their Saviour. 

That the divine glory in the death of Christians 
is the object of our Lord's particular regard, may be 
gathered from what is said when Jesus gave an 
intimation concerning the death of Peter, in one o 
his last interviews with his disciples ; " This spake 



472 THE LAND BEULAH 

he, signifying by what death he should glorify 
God." This too is partly the meaning of that ex- 
pression in the 116th Psalm, " Precious in the sight 
of the Lord is the death of his saints." Every 
peaceful, every triumphant death-bed is a com- 
mentary on this passage ; for the glory, the faithful- 
ness, the mercy and love of the Saviour, and the 
love of his dear disciples to him, stronger than 
death, and the greatness of his atoning sacrifice, 
and the power of his blood to cleanse from sin and 
give peace to the conscience, are here exhibited, as 
they are nowhere else. Here the cross shines in 
its saving power and glory. Every precious thing 
in the character of Christ and the scheme of redemp- 
tion, all the lovely attributes of God, and the un- 
speakable blessedness of those who have their por- 
tion in him, are here manifested together. All the 
lessons of the law and the Gospel seem brought to 
a point ; but above all, the preciousness of Christ 
to the soul that rests on him is so illustrated, and 
the necessity of faith so demonstrated, that it seems 
as if the sight of one such death-scene, if all men 
could behold it, would draw all men to the Saviour. 
It does make all men exclaim, Let me die the 
death of the righteous, and let my last end be like 
his! 

Let us now turn the light of Death upon our own 
life, for Death is the great Enlightener, in whose 
presence we see things as they really are, all delu- 
sions being withdrawn, all dreams having vanished, 
and an overpowering flood of light being thrown 
back upon the vanities through which we have been 
treading. Let us flee to Christ, and, by his grace* 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 473 

live the life of the righteous, and so our last end 
shall be like his ! Of true peace in death there is 
no possibility but by being in Christ ; but even 
the peace of a true Christian may be greatly ob- 
scured and troubled if he has been willing to live 
at a distance from his Saviour. But where the 
soul is in Christ, relying on his precious blood and 
righteousness, and the affections are habitually 
fixed upon the things which are above, where 
Christ sitteth on the right hand of God, then indeed 
dying is but going home ; and such blessedness is 
worth all the daily watchfulness in life, that can 
possibly be given for it. Such blessedness makes 
the soul live on the borders of Heaven, in the 
Land Beulah ; for to be in the Land Beulah is 
to be spiritually minded, and that is the secret of 
all the blessed visions to be seen in that land. To be 
spiritually minded is life and peace ; and they who 
are eminently so, are eminently happy. Nor is any 
labor to be accounted painful, in comparison to 
the sweetness of so resting upon God. The way 
to such blessedness may be trying, the steps to be 
taken may cost much self-denial, but the results are 
unspeakably glorious and delightful. Nor is there 
any happiness to be compared with that which is 
enjoyed by a growing Christian, a saint, whose 
life is truly hid with Christ in God. The happi- 
ness of walking with God daily is very great. It 
is blessed to breathe after God, to hunger and 
thirst after righteousness, and to long for the 
communication of his Spirit. It is blessed to feel 
with the Psalmist that the soul thirsteth for God, 
thrice blessed to cry out, As the hart panteth after 



474 THE LAND JBEULAH 

the water-brook, so panteth my soul after thee, O 
God! 

And if the experience of such desires is blessed, 
much more is the fruition of them, when God 
reveals himself to the soul that waiteth on him. 
Blessed are they that do hunger and thirst after 
righteousness, for they shall be filled. A watchful, 
earnest attention to the increase of one's personal 
piety makes every part of Christian experience ani- 
mated and delightful. There is a divine relish in 
all the exercises of the Christian life, a savour of 
heaven, a foretaste of the enjoyment of the saints 
in glory. The Word of God is precious, the duty 
of prayer is precious, the vision of faith is clear 
and strong, and heavenly realities come in with 
vivid power upon the soul, and the peace of God, 
which passeth all understanding, keeps the heart 
and mind through Christ Jesus. 

The secret of the Lord is with them that fear 
him, and he will show them his covenant. He 
will hold it up to their view, unfold its rich blessings 
in their sight, and show them that they have a part 
and a place in it. He will open and expound its 
glories, its glories of wisdom and knowledge in the 
revelation of Christ, its glories of spiritual things, 
into which the angels desire to look, its glories in 
the purchased possession of the saints and the 
riches of their heavenly inheritance, and the won- 
ders of that infinite love, by which such celes- 
tial, everlasting treasures were procured. All this, 
and infinitely more than can be described, is the 
heritage of them that fear the Lord, that rest upon 
the Saviour, and who earnestly endeavour, renoun- 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 475 

cing every sin, to maintain daily that close walk 
with him which he requires, and to follow on after 
that perfection, which he. has exhibited as the only 
right standard of the soul. 

Is not this a life to be chosen, to be greatly de- 
sired, to be labored after with exceeding great dili- 
gence, perseverance and earnestness 1 Is it not 
worth a great deal of self-denial and fervent energy 
in prayer, and a great deal of time given to the 
Word of God, and to all the secret exercises of the 
Christian life 1 Is it not worth a great many sacri- 
fices of external ease and comfort, if that were ne- 
cessary, and of external business, if that presses 
too urgently 1 Is it not worth every thing, and are 
not all things else laid in the balance with it empty 
and worthless 1 Is it not the pearl of great price 
which he that is wise will readily sell all that he 
hath to be master of; the one thing needful, for 
the attainment of which all other things may well 
be given up, and forgotten as of no moment? 

Yea, it is the kingdom of God and his righteous- 
ness, without which the universe cannot make you 
happy, but with which all things else shall be 
added unto you. Give what God will, without that 
you are poor, but with that rich, take what he will 
away. For when he gives himself, he gives all 
blessings. Who would not rather be the poorest 
wanderer that walks the earth, the most down- 
trodden and despised outcast of creation, and have 
his daily meals at God's spiritual table, his daily 
walks with his Redeemer, his daily visits of refresh- 
ment at the full fountain of his love, than without 
that refreshment to possess the riches of all king- 
60 



476 THE LAND BEULAH 

doms, or be the worshipped idol of the world ! 
Yea, who would not rather be perishing for want of 
daily bread, or begging from door to door, if that 
were necessary, and yet daily faithful in prayer, 
growing in grace, and having his life hid with Christ 
in God, than surrounded with all affluence and 
at ease amidst all luxuries, and yet living in that 
worldly frame and at that distance from the Saviour, 
and in that gloomy coldness of spirit, which worldly 
prosperity, without great secret diligence in walk- 
ing with God, so invariably produces ! 

The close of the Pilgrim's Progress is rendered 
exceedingly instructive, solemn, and admonitary by 
the fate of Ignorance. It is as if the writer had 
interposed a check to the gushing fulness of our 
feelings excited by the heavenly splendors of the 
preceding description, and had said to us, as we 
were thinking ourselves almost in Heaven before- 
hand, " Beware !" 

" While I was gazing at all these things," says 
the Dreamer, " I turned my head to look back, and 
saw Ignorance come up to the river side ; but he 
soon got over, and that without half the difficulty 
which the other two men met with. For it happen- 
ed that there was then in that place, one Vain- 
hope, a ferry-man, that with his boat helped him 
over ; so he, as the others I saw, did ascend the 
hill to come up to the gate ; only he came alone, 
neither did meet with any the least encouragement. 
When he was come up to the gate, he looked up 
to the writing that was above, and then began to 
knock, supposing that entrance should have been 
quickly administered to him ; but he was asked by 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 477 

the men that looked over the top of the gate, 
Whence come you 1 and what would you have 1 
He answered, I have eat and drank in the presence 
of the King, and he has taught in our streets. 
Then they asked him for his certificate, that they 
might go in and show it to the King. So he 
fumbled in his bosom for one and found none. 
Then, said they, Have you none ? But the man 
answered never a word. So they told the King ; 
but he would not come down to see him, but com- 
manded the two Shining Ones that conducted 
Christian and Hopeful to the City, to go out and 
take Ignorance, and bind him hand and foot, and 
have him away. Then they took him up and 
carried him through the air, to the door that I saw 
in the side of the hill, and put him in there. Then 
I saw that there was a way to Hell even from the 
Gates of Heaven, as well as from the City of De- 
struction." 

Now can any thing be more solemn than this ? 
You will remember that this man Ignorance was 
ignorant both of himself and of his Saviour, and 
yet he had been long a traveller towards the Celes- 
tial City. His case is described by the Saviour, 
with the addition that " Many shall say unto me 
in that day, Lord, Lord, open unto us ; to whom I 
will say, Depart from me, I never knew you, ye 
that work iniquity. Now may God in mercy keep 
us from such self-deception ! Nevertheless, it 
would be nothing strange, should it be found in 
the great day of trial, that this age was dis- 
tinguished as an age of self-deception ; and if we 
take not great heed to ourselves, we shall glide on 



478 THE LAND BEULAH 

with the same general current. And it is the 
saddest, most dreadful mistake that ever man fell 
into, to dream on of Heaven, only to awake and 
find himself in Hell. We had better do any thing 
most hard, be pressed with the greatest evils, en- 
compassed with the most painful difficulties, endure 
all labors, undergo all suffering, practice every 
self-denial of the good soldier of Jesus Christ, 
than remain in such danger. What is it not worth 
to be unalterably safe in Christ, to have constant 
experience of his preciousness, to be making con- 
stant additions to our knowledge of him, to be 
nourished daily by his grace, and to be animated 
constantly by his love 1 Oh if we had any thing 
in this world of a value in the least to be compared 
with the blessedness of a well-grounded hope in 
Christ, we would not leave it for a single day in 
such risk as we do our hope of Heaven, by 
living at such a distance from our Saviour. 

What shadows we are, and what shadows we 
pursue ! absorbed with vanities ! a vision made for 
Eternity, blinded by the shadows of Time ! A soul 
made for God, and the boundless ralities of ever- 
lasting ages, absorbed with earth, and the poor 
worthless trifles of transitory years ! Is this the 
manner in which Christ would have his pupil 
live 1 Or is the prize of Heaven's eternal inheri- 
tance of so little value, that we can run the hazard 
of losing it with so little concern 1 Ah, no ! The 
crown of righteousness is not of so little worth. 
The Kingdom of Heaven sufiereth violence, and 
the violent take it by force. 

Nor is there any safety but in Christ, and in a 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 479 

constant effort after an increase of that holiness, 
with which alone the soul can be fitted to overcome 
the dangers of its mortal pilgrimage, or to enjoy 
the crown laid up in heaven. There is safety 
where Christ is. There is safety where there is 
watchfulness and growth in grace. There is safety 
where there is much secret prayer. There is safety 
in giving all diligence to make your calling and 
election sure. There is safety in lying low at the 
feet of the Saviour. There is safety and blessed- 
ness unspeakable, even here, in a world of dark- 
ness and trial, amidst temptations and dangers. 
There is safety and blessedness now, there is tri- 
umphant glory at the close, in so walking with 
Christ, so resting on him, so pursuing his pil- 
grimage. 

And then the usefulness which is the result of 
all this ! For there is no picture more lovely, than 
of that external activity, which grows out of inward 
holiness. A zeal that is the result of secret hu- 
mility, gentleness, prayer, love to Christ, sorrow 
for sin, is ever blessed and successful. The world 
even of hardened opposers bow to so lovely a 
spirit as that which Henry Martyn and Harlan 
Page exhibited. It is a spirit which grows out of 
secret faithfulness in the Christian life. Let any 
disciple dwell with Christ in secret, and that disci- 
ple will assuredly be like unto Christ in public. Let 
him prayerfully, anxiously, weepingly, attend to his 
own private growth in grace, let him make the 
increase of his personal holiness a steadfast object, 
and the fruits of holiness will presently appear. 
While he is watching and praying, and watering 



480 THE LAND BEULAH 

the plant in his own heart with tears, the tree 
will be growing, with green leaves, and fair 
perpetual blossoms, and ripe, rich fruit, to the 
admiration and benefit of every beholder. 

It is a blessed life, but a close how transcen- 
dency glorious, which we have been tracing in this 
precious book. Looking at its close, every man 
wishes to enter on just such a pilgrimage. Let us 
then stand at the Gates of the Celestial City, as 
they are flung wide open to admit the transfigured 
Pilgrims, and then, with the light shining on us, 
let us turn to the prayerful patient prosecution of 
our own earthly pilgrimage, our own work for 
Christ. " Now just as the gates were opened to let 
in the men, I looked in after them, and behold the 
City shone like the sun ; the streets also were 
paved with gold, and in them walked many men 
with crowns on their heads, palms in their hands, 
and golden harps to sing praises withal. There 
were also of them that had wings ; and they an- 
swered one another without intermission, saying, 
Holy, holy, holy is the Lord. And after that, they 
shut up the Gates ; which, when I had seen, I 
wished myself among them." 

Turn now, dear fellow pilgrim, animated and 
encouraged on thy way. Thou hast heard the 
songs of the redeemed ; in the Apocalypse thou 
hast gone with John into the Celestial City ; in the 
Pilgrim's Progress thou hast wished thyself with 
Bunyan among the crowned and shining ones, that 
cry, Holy ! Holy ! Holy ! Go then, and be faith- 
ful. Live in and upon Christ. Knock and weep 
and watch and pray ; but in all thy darkness, (and 



AND THE RIVER OF DEATH. 481 

darkness thou mayst have to encounter,) never let 
the light of this Vision be forgotten. 

Hie thee on thy quiet way, 

Patient watch the breaking dawn : 
For the shadows flee away, 

And the night will soon be gone. 

Thy pilgrimage lies through the wilderness, a wil- 
derness indeed ; but the dear path to Christ's 
abode is there, and His light is shining. No pil- 
grim's rest is in this world, but there is a rest that 
remaineth for the people of God. Here we have 
no continuing city, but we seek one to come, a city 
which hath foundations, whose Builder and Maker 
is God. Go, then, on thy way, singing as thou 
goest, — 

How happy is the Pilgrim's lot, 
How free from every anxious thought, 

From worldly hope and fear ! 
Confined to neither court nor cell, 
His soul disdains on earth to dwell, 
He only sojourns here. 

This happiness in part is mine ; 
Already saved from low design, 

From every creature-love ! 
Blessed with the scorn of finite good, 
-My soul is lightened of its load, 

And seeks the things above. 

The things eternal I pursue, 
A happiness beyond the view 

Of those that beastiy pant 
For things by nature felt and seen ; 
Their honors, wealth, and pleasures mean, 

I neither have nor want. 

No foot of land do I possess ; 
No cottage in this wilderness ; 

A poor way-faring man ; 
I lodge awhile in tents below, 
Or gladly wander to and fro, 

Till I my Canaan gain. 



482 THE LAND BEULAH, ETC. 

Nothing on earth I call my own ; 
A stranger to the world, unknown, 

I all their goods despise : 
I trample on their whole delight, 
And seek a city out of sight, 

A city in the skies. 

There is my house and portion fair ; 
My treasure and my heart are there, 

And my abiding home ; 
For me my elder brethren stay, 
And angels beckon me away, 

And Jesus bids me come ! 



Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, 
be unto him that s1tteth upon the throne, 
and unto the lamb for ever and ever ! 



CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 



AND 



THE CHILDREN 



Comparison between the First and Second Parts of the Pilgrim's Progress. — Cheerful- 
ness of the Second Part. — Beauty of its delineation of the female character. — Its 
great variety. — Characters of Mr. Great-heart and Standfast. — Character of Mr. 
Fearing. — Instructive lessons from the Enchanted Ground. — Reigning traits of the 
Pilgrimage as delineated by Bunyan. — Closing lesson. 

If only the Second Part of the Pilgrim's Progress 
had been written, it may well be doubted whether 
it would not have been regarded in a higher light 
than it is now. The First Part is so superior to 
the Second, that this loses in the comparison, and 
gains not so much admiration as it really deserves. 
Just so, the Paradise Regained would have been 
esteemed a nobler Poem, had it not stood after the 
Paradise Lost, the splendor of Milton's genius 
in the first effort, quite eclipsed its milder radiance 
in the second. Yetthe Second Part of the Pilgrim's 
Progress is full of instruction and beauty, and ex- 
hibits varieties of the Christian Life delineated 
with such truth both to nature and grace, that 
though there is less elevation both in thought and 
style, and more familiarity and homeliness, we are 
still delighted with our journeyings, and love to 
listen to the voice of our accustomed teacher. 
61 



484 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

There is not such purity and severity of taste, not 
such glowing fire of sentiment and feeling, not 
such point and condensation, not such unity and 
power, in the Second Part as in the First. The 
conversations do not possess the same richness and 
fulness of meaning, nor the same deep solemn 
blissful tones of warning and of heaven ; there is 
sometimes almost all the difference that is found 
between the garrulity of men at ease, and the 
earnest, thoughtful talk of men pondering great 
themes and set upon great enterprises. Not that 
the journey ever ceases to be the Christian pilgri- 
mage, but it becomes so very sociable, and at times 
so merry and gossiping, that it almost passes into 
comedy. 

Perhaps the Second Part of this pilgrimage 
comes nearer to the ordinary experience of the 
great multitude of Christians, than the First Part ; 
and this may have been Bunyan's intention. The 
First Part shows, as in Christian, Faithful and Hope- 
ful, the great examples and strong lights of this 
pilgrimage ; it is as if Paul and Luther were pas- 
sing over the scene. The Second Part shows a 
variety of Pilgrims, whose stature and experience 
are more on a level with our own. The First Part 
is more severe, sublime, inspiring ; the Second Part 
is more soothing and comforting. The First Part 
has deep and awful shadows mingled with its light, 
terribly instructive, and like warnings from hell 
and the grave. The Second Part is more con- 
tinually and uninterruptedly cheerful, full of good 
nature and pleasantry, and showing the pilgrimage 
in lights and shades that are common to weaker 
Christians. 



AND THE CHILDREN* 485 

So there is a sweet tone and measure of gentle- 
ness and tenderness, in accordance with that pas- 
sage, " Lift up the hands which hang down, and 
the feeble knees, and make straight paths for your 
feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the 
way ; but rather let it be healed. We have before 
us a company of the maimed, the halt, the lame, 
the blind, and a merry party it is, after all, through 
the magic of faith and Christian sympathy. Here 
are Mr. Ready-to-halt, Mr. Feeble-mind, Mr. 
Despondency, and his daughter Much-afraid, and 
others of like frame and mould, as well as old 
father Honest, resolute Mr. Standfast, discreet 
Christiana and the lovely Mercy. Here are canes, 
crutches and decrepitude, as well as young limbs, 
well set sinews, and fresh, elastic, tripping feet ot 
childhood. The Canterbury Tales, themselves, 
have scarcely a greater variety in their pilgrimage. 
And all these characters are touched w T ith great 
originality and power of coloring. They are sepa- 
rate, individual, graphic portraitures of classes. 

Perhaps the most delightful portion of the Second 
Dream of Bunyan, is its sweet representation of 
the female character. There never were two more 
attractive beings drawn, than Christiana and 
Mercy ; as different from each other as Christian 
and Hopeful, and yet equally pleasing in their 
natural traits of character, and, under the influence 
of divine grace, each of them reflecting the light 
of heaven in an original and lovely variety. His 
own conception of what constitutes a bright exam- 
ple of beauty and consistency of character in a 
Christian Woman, Bunyan has here given us, as well 



486 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

as in his first Dream the model of steadfast excel- 
lence in a Christian Man. The delineation, in both 
Christiana and Mercy, is eminently beautiful. We 
have, in these characters, his own ideal of the do- 
mestic virtues, and his own conception of a well- 
ordered Christian family's domestic happiness. 

I know not why we may not suppose this pic- 
ture to have been drawn from the experience of 
his own household, as well as that the picture 
of Christian in the first part was taken from his 
own personal experience ; and if so, he possessed 
a lovely wife and a lovely family. Wherever he 
may have formed his own notions of female loveli- 
ness and excellence, he has, in the combination of 
them in the Second Part of the Pilgrim's Progress, 
presented two characters of such winning modesty 
and grace, such confiding truth and frankness, 
such simplicity and artlessness, such cheerfulness 
and pleasantness, such native good sense and 
Christian discretion, such sincerity, gentleness and 
tenderness, that nothing could be more delightful. 

The matronly virtues of Christiana, and the 
maidenly qualities of Mercy, are alike pleasing 
and appropriate. There is a mixture of timidity 
and frankness in Mercy, which is as sweet in itself 
as it is artlessly and unconsciously drawn ; and in 
Christiana we discover the very characteristics that 
can make the most lovely feminine counterpart; 
suitable to the stern and lofty qualities of her hus- 
band. The characters of her boys, too, are beauti- 
fully delineated, with her own watchfulness over 
them as a mother. The catechising of the children 
is full of instruction, and every thing shows the 



AND THE CHILDREN. 487 

principles of a good Christian education. The boys 
themselves are children of good sense and affec- 
tionate dispositions ; and on the whole, this domes- 
tic picture of a family travelling towards heaven is 
one of the most beautiful and instructive delinea- 
tions drawn by Bunyan's genius. 

There are two traits that ought to be particu- 
larly noted, which are, first, the uninterrupted 
Christian cheerfulness of the whole party, so that 
there is " music in the heart, music in the house, 
and music in heaven," because of them ; and se- 
cond, the exquisite beauty of affectionate kindness 
and care exercised towards them, the compassion- 
ate and joyful tenderness with which they were 
received ; and the open-hearted hospitality and 
love with which they are helped forward on 
their journey. The "meekness and gentleness 
of Christ," with the "love of the Spirit," and 
the lowly sweetness of the Gospel, especially in 
its condescension to the smoking flax and the 
bruised reed, were never more beautifully and 
successfully depicted. Mr. Feeble-mind is gently 
carried up the Hill Difficulty. At the House of 
the Interpreter, when Mr. Fearing stands with- 
out in the cold, long time trembling and afraid to 
knock, good father Honest is sent forth by the 
Lord of the Way to entreat him to come in. In 
the significant rooms of the House of the In- 
terpreter, there are discovered new varieties to 
please and instruct the women and children, and 
beautiful indeed are some of them. Also, the 
Lord of the Way is constantly sending refresh- 
ments to his beloved ones, and he grants them a 



488 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

heavenly Conductor to fight for them all along 
their pilgrimage. Sweet dreams wait on them, 
the peace of God keeps them, and when the boys 
go astray by eating of the fruit of " Beelzebub's 
orchard," the skill and efficacy of their physician 
are not greater than his kindness and gentleness. 

As to the notable cheerfulness of this part of the 
pilgrimage, it is to be remarked, that it springs 
from the prevalence of Hope and Love. There 
is such constant Christian benevolence, such mu- 
tual humility, such each esteeming other better 
than themselves, such watchfulness for each 
other's good, such a Christian spirit to each other's 
failings, such sympathy in each other's joys and 
sorrows, such unselfish, unworldly hearts are min- 
gled together, that there can hardly be a sweeter 
example of that Christian conversation which is 
always instructive, because always, with grace, 
seasoned with salt; and always cheerful, because 
always singing and making melody in the heart to 
the Lord. The terrors of the law are not present 
in this second pilgrimage, so much as the consola- 
tions of the Gospel; there is constant, serene 
enjoyment, and not by any means so many difficul- 
ties in the way as there are pleasures. 

And it is observable that all the pilgrimage wears 
an aspect reflected from the gentle retiring charac- 
ter of the pilgrims. The very dangers that were 
so frightful in the first part have a gentler cast, 
when Christiana and Mercy pass through them ; 
the very fiends lose something of their ugliness and 
terror ; in passing through Vanity Fair they meet 
with some good men, and are entertained with 



AND THE CHILDREN. 489 

Christian hospitality in the house of a true pilgrim ; 
and when they come to the close of their pilgrimage, 
the River of Death itself, for them and for good 
Mr. Fearing, becomes almost dry. When they 
pass through the Valley of Humiliation, it is to 
them a sweet and quiet place, because their own 
spirit is so sweet and contented ; no sight or sem- 
blance of Apollyon is there ; they could live there 
and be happy all their life long. 

When they pass through the Valley of the Sha- 
dow of Death, Christ's rod and his staff do so com- 
fort them, and they so cling together amidst their 
fears, and encourage each other by their holy con- 
versation, that it is no more the dread valley 
which Christian passed through alone ; it is a 
place where they are bid stand and see the 
Lord's deliverance. Their company is constantly 
increasing as they go, and they are all so ready to 
bear one another's burdens, they obey so perfectly 
the Apostle's injunction to put on, as the elect of 
God, holy and beloved, bowels of mercies, humble- 
ness of mind, and the gentlest forbearance, that 
a more alluring picture of the pilgrimage could 
scarcely be drawn, and yet a most perfectly cor- 
rect one, wherever the blessed Spirit of Christ pre- 
vails. The pilgrims all act according to this divine 
rule, Let every one of us please his neighbor for his 
good to edification, for even Christ pleased not 
himself. 

All this is delightful. It suits the pilgrimage 
to the walks of humble life, and holds up an 
example neither too high for the common multi- 
tude of Christians, nor in any way restricted to 



490 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

great stations or opportunities, nor at all removed 
from the familiar occasions and occurrences of our 
every-day existence. We have here a picture of 
the Pilgrim in society, and how entirely it stands 
contrasted with the monkish and monastic piety 
once in fashion, and now again in some quarters 
beginning to be revered, I hardly need say. There 
is nothing severe, or stiff, or formal in it, nothing 
ascetic or morose, but every thing good-natured 
and sociable, joyful, charitable and kind. As a 
picture of the Pilgrim in domestic life, of the Pil- 
grim as the mother of a family, and of the Pilgrim, 
though in the world, yet living above the world, the 
description is as pleasing and attractive as it is 
true and valuable. It is what the humblest minds 
can understand, while the most elevated may dwell 
upon it with profit and delight. Perhaps to the 
minds of children, the Second Part proves even 
more attractive than the First ; a striking proof of 
its merits, since Bunyan wrote it for childlike minds 
and for the common people. 

One of its greatest beauties is its rich and vigor- 
ous delineation of character, and that not merely 
in the case of Pilgrims, but of opposers and 
evil-minded persons. The sinful women who 
beset Christiana and Mercy at the outset to dis- 
suade them from becoming Pilgrims, are portraits 
of the kind of character which those generally bear 
who oppose and revile any that may be fear- 
ing God and seeking the salvation of their souls. 
Mrs. Timorous, Mrs. Bats-eyes, Mrs. Light-mind, 
Mrs. Inconsiderate, Mrs. Know-nothing, and 
others still worse, make up the character of 



AND THE CHILREN. 491 

those, who either do not themselves become Pil- 
grims, or who endeavour to turn friends or ac- 
quaintances from the ways of righteousness. But 
Christiana and Mercy are too much in earnest, too 
deeply convinced of sin, and too sincerely bent 
upon securing their salvation to be turned aside 
in the least by such opposition. So it always is 
where there is sin in the conscience and the mo- 
tion of God's Spirit on the heart. Not all that men 
or devils can do, not all the power either of temp- 
tation or persuasion, or ridicule, can have the least 
effect where the conscience is once thoroughly 
awakened and burdened with a sense of guilt. 
To be in earnest on first setting out in this pil- 
grimage is a great thing, and the explicit pro- 
mise of God is, Ye shall find me when ye shall 
search for me with all the heart. 

Next to the characters of Christiana and Mercy 
stands that of Mr. Great-heart, their conductor, a 
man of great faith, a man of the same spirit as 
Christian, Faithful, and Hopeful. There is a 
combination of energy and gentleness in his cha- 
racter, a union of the fearless warrior and the 
kind and careful Shepherd. He can fight with 
Giant Grim, can talk with the children, can con- 
descend to Mr. Feeble-mind, can carry the Lambs 
in his bosom, and gently lead those that are with 
young. His portrait is drawn with remarkable 
freedom, as a frank, fearless, noble, open cha- 
racter, with neither severity nor prejudice to mar 
those confiding and attractive qualities. 

Mr. Honest, Mr. Valiant-for-truth, and Mr. 
Standfast, are men of a kindred greatness of 
62 



492 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

spirit. It is a beautiful incident, when they find 
Mr. Standfast at prayer on the Enchanted Ground, 
and the manner of his introduction to our know- 
ledge suits well the close of his life, which was 
very triumphant. There was a great calm at that 
time in the River of Death, and when Mr. Stand- 
fast was about half-way over, he stood firm, and 
spoke to those who had accompanied him to the 
bank of the River, in language of such glowing 
love to Christ, and such unshaken faith, as was 
enough to ravish the hearts of the survivors with 
joy for the prospect of the glory before him. The 
deaths of the Pilgrims in this Second Part are all 
either quiet or triumphant, and some, who had 
passed all their life under a cloud, beheld it break, 
and the mists to disperse, and the sun to shine 
brightly at the last hour. 

The character of Mr. Fearing is also an ad- 
mirable portrait. In every country where Pilgrims 
are sojourning, there are just such men as he is to 
be met with on the pilgrimage. If we all possessed 
Mr. Fearing's tenderness of conscience, and his 
dread of sinning against God, it would be well 
for us ; and yet, if all Christians were in all 
respects like him, there would not be so much 
good done in the world, though there might be 
less evil committed. Good Mr. Fearing needed 
confidence in God, and the spirit of adoption and 
of freedom in his service. There was in him so 
great a degree of humility and self-abasement, so 
great a sense of his own unworthiness, that, be- 
ing unaccompanied by a corresponding sense of 
the free mercy of Christ to the chief of sinners, 



AND THE CHILDREN. 493 

it went over into unbelief and fear. He feared 
to apply to himself the promises, feared that he 
was too unworthy even to pray for an interest in 
them, feared that he should not be accepted of 
Christ, feared to make a profession of religion, 
hardly dared show himself among Christians, or 
permit himself to be considered as one of them. 
These fears and despondencies went so far in his 
mind, that they prevented a right view of his du- 
ties ; they made what are the duties of the Chris- 
tian appear to him as such great privileges, of 
which he was altogether unworthy, that he hardly 
dared take upon himself to perform them. 

Yet, he was ready for difficulty and self-denial, 
and was sometimes prompt and bold, where Pilgrims 
that were stronger than he found themselves 
drowsy and fearful. The Hill Difficulty he did not 
seem to mind at all, and in Vanity Fair his spirit 
was so stirred within him at the sins and fooleries of 
the place, that father Honest had much ado to keep 
him within the bounds of prudence, and feared he 
Would have brought the whole rabble of the Fair 
upon them. Then on the Enchanted Ground, 
where many are so sleepy, he was wakeful and 
vigilant ; so that he was always giving good evi- 
dence to others of being a true child of God, 
even while he had very little hope for himself, 
and many, very many fears, lest he should at last be 
refused admittance at the Gates of the Celestial 
City. 

The humility of Mr. Fearing was good, and 
a precious, rare grace it is ; but it is no part of 
humility to distrust the mercy of the Saviour, or to 



494 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

shrink from active duty for want of reliance on the 
strength of Christ, for want of resting on that sweet 
promise, My grace is sufficient for thee. Mr. Fear- 
ing' s unbelief was a source of great distress to 
him, and deprived him of much enjoyment all 
the way of his pilgrimage. Persons like him, 
though truly fearing God, often go under a cloud 
all their life long, and sometimes even refuse to 
make a profession of religion, and to join them- 
selves with other Christians, because of their pre- 
vailing gloom. Mr. Fearing himself, though he 
had much comfort in the House Beautiful, was 
with difficulty persuaded to enter. " I got him in," 
said father Honest, " at the House Beautiful, I 
think before he was willing; also when he was in, 
I brought him acquainted with the damsels that 
were of the place, but he was ashamed to make 
himself much for company. He desired much 
to be alone, yet he always loved good talk, and 
often would get behind the screen to hear it : he 
also loved much to see ancient things, and to be 
pondering them in his mind. He told me after- 
ward that he loved to be in those two houses 
from which he came last, to wit, at the Gate, and 
that of the Interpreter, but that he durst not be so 
bold as to ask" 

He had much joy in the Valley of Humiliation, 
but he was a man of few words, and had a habit 
of sighing aloud in his dejection. He was very 
tender of sin, and so afraid of doing injuries to 
others, that he would often deny himself that 
which is lawful, because he would not offend. 
This was a very precious trait, but so extreme in 



AND THE CHILDREN. 495 

him, that by the lowness of his spirits his life was 
made burdensome to himself, and not a little trou- 
blesome to others. They had need of great pa- 
tience with him, and tenderness towards him. He 
carried a Slough of Despond in his mind, and was 
always foreboding evil to himself, especially when he 
saw the fall and ruin of others. When they came 
to where the three fellows were hanged, he said he 
doubted that that would be his end also ; and he 
was always fearing about his acceptance at last. 
But it is very clear that he was a person described 
in that passage where God says, To this man will I 
look, even to him that is poor, and of a contrite 
spirit, and who trembleth at my word. It is evi- 
dent also that he would come under the saying of 
the Saviour, Blessed are the poor in spirit, for 
theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Wherefore, says 
Bunyan, the Lord of the Way carried it wonderfully 
loving to him, for his encouragement. For thus 
saith the high and lofty One, that inhabiteth Eter- 
nity, whose name is Holy, I dwell in the high and 
holy place, with him that is of a contrite and hum- 
ble spirit, to revive the spirit of the humble, and to 
revive the heart of the contrite ones. This charac- 
ter of good Mr. Fearing, in the second part of the 
Pilgrim's Progress, stands in a striking and instruc- 
tive contrast with the characters of Talkative and 
Ignorance in the First, as also with the character 
of Self-will as described by father Honest. 

In the pilgrimage of the Second Part Bunyan 
has introduced a most instructive variety and 
change in his treatment of the same subjects that 
came under his notice with Christian and Hope- 



496 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

ful. The happiness of the Valley of Humiliation 
to a quiet and contented mind is described with 
great beauty. The timid Pilgrims had daylight 
through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and 
yet they saw enough to convince them of the ter- 
rors of that place, and of the reality of Christian's 
fearful experience in passing through it. The ugly 
shapes that they saw were indistinct, but the rush- 
ing of the fiends, the roaring of flames, and the fire 
and smoke of the pit, were easy enough to be dis- 
cerned, so that the place was a Vale of Horrors 
still. Among other things, "Mercy, looking be- 
hind her, saw, as she thought, something almost 
like a lion, and it came a great padding pace 
after ; and it had a hollow voice of roaring ; and 
at every roar that it gave, it made the Valley echo, 
and all their hearts to ache, save the heart of him 
that was their guide. So it came up ; and Mr. 
Great-heart went behind, and put the Pilgrims 
all before him. The Lion also came on apace, and 
Mr. Great-heart addressed him to give him battle. 
But when he saw that it was determined that re- 
sistance should be made, he also drew back and 
came no farther." The Pilgrims might have 
thought of what Peter says concerning this Roar- 
ing Lion, Whom resist steadfast in the faith ; and 
also of that of James, Resist the Devil and he will 
flee from you. 

There is also a very instructive variety in the 
delineation of the Enchanted Ground, a region 
which wears a very different aspect according to 
the varying condition, circumstances and habits of 
the Pilgrims. Christiana and her party did here 



AND THE CHILDREN. 497 

encounter much mist and darkness, with mire un- 
derfoot, and a forest of briers and thorns entan- 
gling and painful. What made this the more dan- 
gerous was, the alluring and refreshing arbors, 
green, soft, and beautifully wrought, where the 
very weariness of the Pilgrims did urge them to 
rest and sleep, though they might never again 
wake in this world. It has been thought that here 
are delineated the circumstances and temptations 
of those Pilgrims who are deeply engaged in 
business, and perhaps became wealthy, and are 
ensnared by advantageous offices, schemes, and 
worldly connections, so that they are overwhelmed 
by the cares of life, the deceitfulness of riches, 
and the lusts of other things. The arbors that 
are prepared for them by worldly prosperity, they 
are very apt to slumber in, to the great detriment 
if not ruin of their souls. Amidst the thorns 
and briers the word of God becomes unfruitful, 
and in the Arbor it will not take root. If real 
Christians are in this condition, and view their 
situation aright, they will be as much troubled as 
the Pilgrims were on this Enchanted Ground, 
and will find it full of mire, perplexity and vexa- 
tion of spirit. But if worldly prosperity be hailed 
by them for enjoyment, as an arbor to sleep in, 
instead of being watched against as a snare, and 
employed for usefulness, then they are sleepers 
on the Enchanted Ground, nor can any tell if 
ever they will awake. 

In the midst of their mist and darkness the 
Pilgrims came to a place where a man is apt to 
lose his way. So Mr. Great-heart struck a light 



498 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

and examined his map ; and well was it for them 
that he did so, for just at that point, a little before 
them, and that at the end of the cleanest way too, 
there was a deep pit, none knows how deep, full of 
mud and mire, made there on purpose to destroy 
the pilgrims in. But Mr. Great-heart, by narrowly 
consulting his map, with the light that was lighted, 
by taking heed to God's Word, with earnest prayer 
for the teachings of the Holy Spirit, discovered at 
once what was the right way, and so they were 
saved from this danger. 

So is the Word of God a lamp unto our feet, and a 
light unto our paths, if we will walk thereby. And it 
becomes us diligently to pray with the Psalmist, 
Open thou mine eyes, that I may behold wondrous 
things out of thy law. The Word of God is a pre- 
cious, heavenly map, in which we have not only the 
right way, the way of salvation, clearly laid down, as 
a path that shineth more and more unto the perfect 
day, but also the cross-paths and the by-paths, which 
Satan and wicked men, and deceivers, have traced 
along this pilgrimage, and which they have some- 
times made to look so much like the right way, that 
the Pilgrims may easily be deceived, if they do not 
closely study this map, seeking at the same time 
the guidance of the Holy Spirit. In a place of 
darkness especially, like this Enchanted Ground, 
they must take heed to the Word of God, as to a 
light that shineth in a dark place, until the day 
dawn, and the day-star arise in their hearts. The 
watchful Pilgrims did thus with Mr. Great-heart, 
and besides, they cried unto him that loveth Pil- 
grims, that he would enlighten their darkness, and 



AND THE CHILDREN. 499 

so a wind speedily arose that drove away the fog, 
and the air became more clear. 

This was one of those blessed " gales of the 
Spirit," that do breathe npon the Pilgrims in an- 
swer to prayer ; and then, in what a sweet, clear 
atmosphere they travel on, in a pure air, in the 
light of heaven, with all the prospect distinct and 
fresh around them ! Ah, it is not the Word of God 
alone, that we need, but the Spirit of God to go 
with it ; and his precious influences and teachings 
will surely be granted to all who humbly seek for 
them. There is much meaning in these incidents, 
especially in that point, that it was the way which 
seemed to be the cleanest, that led in the end to a 
pit of mud and mire. 

This reminds us of the way of the Flatterer, 
whom the Pilgrims, in the First Part, met with, 
and by whom their faces were turned away from 
the Celestial City, while they seemed to them- 
selves to be going directly towards it. Can any 
thing be more plainly indicated by this than that 
pretence to sinless perfection, by which so many 
have been flattered and allured, and which in so 
many cases has led directly, in the end, to the 
deepest pollution. What seems the cleanest path 
leads to the pit ; it leads Pilgrims thither by pride, 
self-righteousness, and the pretence of a holiness 
superior to God's law, and releasing them from its 
obligations. It is not the way of Christ's righteous- 
ness, nor of reliance upon him ; and so, though it 
may seem at first to be a morality and sanctiflca- 
tion of the highest tone, it ends in licentiousness. 
The men that devised this path, and that lead un- 

63 



500 CHRISTIANA; MERCY, 

wary souls in it, are described by Peter. " For 
when they speak great swelling words of vanity, 
they allure through the lusts of the flesh, through 
much wantonness, those that were clean escaped 
from them, who live in error. While they promise 
them liberty, they themselves are the servants of 
corruption, for of whom a man is overcome, of the 
same is he brought in bondage." 

It was amidst this Enchanted Ground that good 
Mr. Standfast, whom the Pilgrims there found 
upon his knees, was so hard beset and enticed by 
Madam Bubble ; and indeed it is by her sorceries 
that the ground itself is enchanted. Madam Bub- 
ble is the world with its allurements and vanities ; 
and whosoever, as Mr. Great-heart said, do lay 
their eyes upon her beauty are counted the 
enemies of God ; for God hath said that the 
friendship of the world is enmity against God ; 
and he hath said farthermore, Love not the 
world, nor the things of the world ; if any man 
love the world, the love of the Father is not 
in him. So Mr. Standfast did well to betake 
him to his knees, praying to him that could help 
him. So if all Pilgrims, when worldly proposals 
and enticements allure them, and they feel the 
love of the world tempting them and gaining on 
them, would thus go to more earnest prayer, and be 
made more vigilant against temptations, Madam 
Bubble would not gain so many victories. 

Set your affections on things above, and not on 
things on the earth. The spirit of the Pilgrim's 
Progress is every where in admirable accordance 
with this divine injunction. There is an incident 



AND THE CHILDREN. 501 

recorded of Christiana's boys, which very beauti- 
fully inculcates an instructive lesson on this sub- 
ject, and shows Bunyan's opinion as to the man- 
ner in which Christian parents should educate 
their children in regard to the pleasures of the 
world. There was, on the other side of the wall 
that fenced in the way of salvation, a garden, with 
fruit trees that shot their branches over the wall ; 
and the fruit being very mellow and tempting, and 
hanging down into the way, would often allure pas- 
sengers to pluck and eat. The boys did this, as 
boys are apt to do, and as older boys had done be- 
fore them ; and, though their careful mother did 
chide them for so doing, still they went on. 

Now this was Beelzebub's orchard, and the fruit 
was his fruit ; but Christiana at the time only knew 
that, being out of the way of salvation, it was none 
of theirs ; for had she known to whom it belonged, 
she would have been ready to die with fear. The 
fruit produced a serious illness in the boys, a good 
while after, which illness did not show itself indeed, 
till they had left the house of the Interpreter, and 
gone over the Hill Difficulty, and dwelt some time 
in the House Beautiful ; and then Matthew, the 
eldest boy, who had eaten the fruit against the ad- 
vice of his mother, fell grievously sick. 

Now when Christiana learned from the Physician 
that it was Beelzebub's fruit that Matthew had 
eaten, she was sore afraid, and wept bitterly over 
her own carelessness, as well as her boy's naughti- 
ness. And ever will the Christian mother have to be- 
wail in her children the mistakes into which, through 
carelessness and want of prayer, she may have 



502 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

fallen, in their education, and the improper indul- 
gences and amusements, in which, through a vain 
fondness to be fashionable, or through the example of 
worldly families and friends, she may have allowed 
her children. There are pleasures, amusements, 
and gratifications, which are so thoroughly and 
solely worldly, so entirely on the other side of the 
wail of salvation, that they must be considered as 
belonging to Beelzebub's orchard, and therefore 
the Pilgrims and their families should have nothing 
to do with them. Nevertheless, the fruit hangs 
over so temptingly into the Pilgrim's way, and so 
many are in the habit of considering Beelzebub's 
mellow apples as innocent amusements, that many 
Pilgrim families do partake of them, to the injury 
of the cause of Christ, and to their own great spiri- 
tual harm. There is decision as well as affectionate 
kindness needed in every Christian parent, to keep 
his children from the fruit of those trees that grow 
on Beelzebub's side of the wall. 

It is very instructive to see how long after the 
fruit was taken, the evil broke out in Matthew's 
system. Sin may be carelessly or wilfully commit- 
ted, and yet at the time the conscience may be 
blinded or quiet in regard to it, even with those who 
are true believers ; but such sin may be the cause 
of great darkness, discouragement and distress, 
when the conscience, though late, is made to feel 
it ; and it may be the cause of the withdrawal of 
the consolations of God's Spirit, and the cause of 
great gloom in the soul, even while the sin is not 
remembered, and the believer does not know why 
God is contending with him. In such a case the 



AND THE CHILDREN. 503 

Pilgrims must say with Jeremiah, Let us search 
and try our ways, and turn again to the Lord. 

The skilful Physician in this allegory proposed 
such questions to Matthew and his mother, that they 
soon discovered the cause of his illness, and when 
the cause was known, then by the medicines of 
Christ, by the blood of Christ, with the tears of faith 
and repentance, the cure was easy. But concealed 
sin must sooner or later work distress in the con- 
science, and so must every sinful habit, and every 
wrong worldly indulgence, however it may have 
been pleaded for and allowed under the guise of an 
innocent gratification. Forbidden fruit is danger- 
ous fruit, and works ruin, whether children take 
it, or grown people. The heart of persons who live 
upon it becomes, in Bunyan's expressive phrase, 
good for nothing but to be tinder for the devil's tin- 
der-box. Just so combustible are the passions even 
of children, where sin is not restrained. 

There are two characteristics that reign both in 
the First and Second Parts of the Pilgrim's Progress ; 
the most important, and the one which is diffused 
through the whole work, constituting its spirit, and 
pervading it like a warm, clear, sunny atmosphere, 
is the love of Christ and the Cross. This was the 
grand trait in Bunyan's Christian character, and all 
his writings are deeply penetrated with it. The 
blood of the slain Lamb is every where present ; 
this is the precious hue that suffuses the work, and 
gives to all its colors such depth, such power and 
richness. The heart of the work is Christ; Christ's 
love, Christ's atoning sacrifice, Christ's righteous- 
ness, Christ's precious intercession, Christ's meek- 



504 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

ness and gentleness, Christ's ever-present grace, 
Christ's prevailing merits, Christ the victory over 
sin, Christ our wisdom, righteousness, sanctifica- 
tion and redemption. This secures to the book 
the ever-present influences of the Holy Spirit ; 
this makes it a stream of the Water of Life, clear 
as crystal, flowing through the world ; this makes 
it a book beloved by the heart of the Pilgrim, just 
in proportion as every thought and feeling are 
brought into captivity to the love of Christ. 

The second reigning trait of the whole work is 
its sober, practical and affectionate wisdom. It is 
the wisdom that cometh from above, pure and 
peaceable, gentle and easy to be entreated, full of 
mercy and of good fruits, without partiality and 
without hypocrisy. The views of the christian 
life here inculcated are judicious ; its trials and 
its dangers not at all concealed, yet never over- 
rated ; its enjoyments tinged with a sober colour- 
ing, though rich ; the King's highway often rough 
and beset with difficulties, yet passing through 
scenes of inexpressible loveliness, and provided 
here and there with deep-springing wells of com- 
fort. The practical spirit of this book is of indes- 
cribable value and importance. An allegory like 
this, one might suppose, would make rather an 
imaginative than a working Pilgrim ; and in some 
hands it would have tended to produce a dreaming 
mystic, instead of a sober, experienced Christian. 
But there is hardly a book of greater practical 
wisdom in the world, and certainly, with all its 
imagination, no more correct map of the Christian 
Pilgrimage. Its wisdom is that of dearly bought 



AND THE CHILREN. 505 

experience, heaven- taught and heaven-descended. 
Along with this wisdom there mingles at the 
same time, a vein of the purest most genuine 
cheerfulness and humor. It is as a part of that wis- 
dom, that Bunyan has introduced the domestic 
constitution so beautifully, so happily, so sacredly, 
in the course of the Pilgrimage. It has made his 
Pilgrims marry and give in marriage, in accordance 
with the inspired declaration that marriage is 
honorable in all, and the bed undefiled, and in 
opposition to that asceticism and fanaticism of 
celibacy, which would proclaim a single state as 
the holiest, and which in the Romish Church has 
wrought such a frightful career of abominations. 
But Bunyan also makes his Pilgrims marry accord- 
ing to the Apostolic injunction, only in the Lord. 

In the course of this delineation in the Second 
Part there occurs a passage, which for exquisite 
humor, quiet satire and naturalness in the de- 
velopment of character, is scarcely surpassed in 
the language. It is the account of the courtship 
between Mercy and Mr. Brisk, which took place at 
the House Beautiful. 

" Now by that these Pilgrims had been in this 
place a week, Mercy had a visiter that pretended 
some good will unto her, and his name was Mr. 
Brisk, a man of some breeding, and that pretended 
to religion ; but a man that stuck very close to 
the world. So he came once or twice or more to 
Mercy, and offered love unto her. Now Mercy 
was of a fair countenance, and therefore the more 
alluring. Her mind also was to be always busying 
of herself in doing ; for when she had nothing to 



506 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

do for herself, she would be making of hose and gar- 
ments for others, and would bestow them upon them 
that had need. And Mr. Brisk, not knowing how 
or where she disposed of what she made, seemed 
to be greatly taken, for that he found her never 
idle. I will warrant her a good housewife, quoth 
he to himself." 

Mercy then revealed the business to the maidens 
that were of the house, and inquired of them con- 
cerning him, for they did know him better than she. 
So they told her that he was a very busy young 
man, and one that pretended to religion ; but was, 
as they feared, a stranger to the power of that 
which is good. 

" Nay, then, said Mercy, I will look no more on 
him ; for I purpose never to have a clog to my soul. 

" Prudence then replied that there needed no 
great matter of discouragement to be given to him ; 
for continuing so, as she had begun, to do for the 
poor, would quickly cool his courage. 

" So the next time he comes, he finds her at her 
old work, a making of things for the poor. Then 
said he, What, always at it 1 Yes, said she, either 
for myself or for others. And what canst thou 
earn a day? quoth he. I do these things, said 
she, that I may be rich in good works, laying a 
good foundation against the time to come, that I 
may lay hold of eternal life. Why, prithee, what 
dost thou do with them 1 said he. Clothe the 
naked, said she. With that his countenance fell. 
So he forbore to come at her again. And when 
he was asked the reason why, he said that Mercy 
was a pretty lass, but troubled with ill conditions." 



AND THE CHILDREN. 507 

Not a word of commer/ is necessary on this ex- 
quisitely humorous passage. 

The snatches of poetry in this Second Part, are 
certainly superior to those which are sprinkled in 
the pages of the First. The song of Mr. Valiant- 
for-truth is so much after the manner of our old 
English Melodists, and so valuable in itself, that it 
would make a gem, even in the pages of Shak- 
speare. There is an old melody to which this 
poetry is set, which has been said likewise to have 
been composed by Bunyan ; how true this may be, 
we know not ; but the spirit of the music is in ex- 
cellent harmony with the stanzas, the melody be- 
ing such an one as any cheerful, resolute pilgrim, 
fond of music, might hum to himself upon his jour 
ney, and greatly solace himself thereby. 

Who would true value see, 

Let him come hither ; 
One here will constant be, 

Come wind, come weather. 
There's no discouragement 
Shall make him once relent 
His first avowed intent 

To be a Pilgrim. 

Who so beset him round 

With dismal stories, 
Do but themselves confound ; 

His strength the more is. 
No Lion can him fright, 
He'll with a Giant fight, 
But he will have a right 

To be a Pilgrim. 

Hobgoblin nor foul fiend 

Can daunt his spirit ; 
He knows he at the end 

Shall life inherit. 
Then, fancies, fly away ; 
He'll not fear what men say, 
He'll labor night and day 

To be a Pilgrim. 

64 



508 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

This song brings into view another reigning trait 
of the pilgrimage as depicted by Bunyan, which is 
the passionate intensity and steadfastness of pur- 
pose requisite for its successful pursuit. In the ex- 
perience of Bunyan' s Pilgrims, especially the most 
faithful among them, there is realized that holy 
thirsting for God, and that earnest effort after him, 
of which the Psalmist speaks in so many and such 
striking passages, but especially in the 63d and 
42d Psalms. " My soul followeth hard after thee ; 
thy right hand upholdeth me. As the hart panteth 
after the water-brooks, so panteth my soul after 
thee, O God !" 

The work of finding God is justly represented 
in this pilgrimage as being great and arduous ; and 
the Pilgrims are represented as pursuing it with a 
single eye, and a holy intensity of purpose. If a 
Christian would be at all successful in this great 
pursuit, there must be such a habit of intensity 
and perseverance ; for God hath said, Ye shall 
seek me, and ye shall find me, when ye shall search 
for me with all the heart. In this there is brought 
to view what ought to be the passion of the mind, 
its daily, unceasing, unbroken effort, the habitual 
bent of its energies, the struggle of its powers. 
This is just as necessary to a Christian's success 
in the Divine Life, as enthusiasm in any path of 
science, or of acquisition is necessary to success in 
the pursuits of this life. 

But it is not so common among Christians as it 
ought to be. In Bunyan's own experience, and in 
that of his favorite Pilgrims, there was a holy 
fixedness of purpose, and a fervent breathing of 



AND THE CHILDREN. 509 

the soul after the accomplishment of that purpose, 
and a perpetual return of the soul with un- 
diminished freshness to its work, which are 
rarely beheld in exercise, and in the want of which 
it is to be feared that the piety of our own age 
is greatly defective. As an earthly enthusiasm it 
exists in men of the world ; in the pursuits of this 
world you may find it ; and the existence or the 
absence of this persevering intensity of effort is 
the great cause of the different success which men 
meet with in the pursuits of life. 

The children of this world are wiser in their 
generation than the children of light. And it is 
precisely this enthusiasm of soul, exhibited by men 
who have become great in particular occupations 
in this world, that we speak of, as essential to suc- 
cess in the search after God and eternal greatness. 
Look over the life, for example, of a man like Sir 
Isaac Newton, or Sir Humphrey Davy, and what 
intense devotion do you find to their particular pur- 
suits. Day and night the thirst for knowledge oc- 
cupies their souls. They despise weariness, temp- 
tations, the seductive allurements of the senses, 
even the natural calls of appetite. They undergo 
what in the pursuits of religion would be accounted 
martyrdom, but with their enthusiastic love of 
science, it is nothing, it is pleasure. They en- 
counter dangers, and subject themselves to hazard- 
ous experiments and painful toils, all submitted to 
with ease and even delight, in prosecution of the 
ruling passion of the soul, the business to which 
the whole energies of the being have been devoted 
with so much enthusiasm, that it has become a 
second life and nature. 



510 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

Now it is just this which is needed in the effort 
after God. It is this turning of the whole passion and 
power of the soul into the business of seeking God. 
Ft is this making an acquaintance with God, and a 
greater love of him, and a greater knowledge of 
him, the passion and the business of existence. It 
is this passionate pursuit after holiness, never in- 
termitted, but returned to with the recurrence of 
each day, and maintained with an habitual perseve- 
rance of feeling and effort, that at length shall wear 
the channels of blessedness so deep in the soul, 
that all its energies of sensibility and activity shall 
pour into them ; that shall make the hungering 
and thirsting after righteousness as inseparable a 
movement of the daily tide of life, as undying a 
passion of the heart's daily experience, as is any 
form whatever of this world's idolatry in the souls 
of its worshippers. 

It is this which was David's experience when 
his soul was following hard after God. It is this 
to which he refers when he breaks out, As the 
hart panteth after the water-brooks, so panteth 
my soul after thee, O God ! It is this which has 
constituted the secret of the eminent attainments 
of all eminent saints, in the Scriptures and in all 
history. It is this which feeds the secret fire of 
men's souls, who have still sought God amidst ter- 
rors, sufferings and deaths. It is this which has 
constituted the secret power of assurance ; not so 
much the consciousness or the belief of holiness 
already attained, as the experience of this inex- 
tinguishable, unquenchable thirst, and daily intense 
effort of the soul after it. It is this, which in an 



AND THE CHILDREN. 511 

eminent degree is its rwn reward, and its own 
blessedness. It fulfils in its own exercise the pro- 
mises of God before hand. It is a well of water, 
springing up to everlasting life. It brings God 
and heaven near to the soul day by day, in the very 
intensity of the effort after him. It is accompanied 
with a great promise, that the soul, so seeking him, 
shall find him, that he that thus hungers and thirsts 
after righteousness, shali be filled. 

And this promise is fulfilling with every increase 
in the earnestness of the soul's desires after God, 
with every addition to the power of that passion, 
and the immutability of that habit, which binds the 
soul to the business of seeking God. The very 
intensity of this search after God is an element of 
power. It puts every thing else at a distance, 
every interference aside, every earthly glory into 
darkness. Its keen gaze sees God, and all things 
else are shadows. It gives great superiority to the 
world and to temptation, great clearness of view, 
great power to faith, great nearness to the unseen 
world, a great victory over things seen and tempo- 
ral. It touches all experience with glory, converts 
all events into ministers of grace and goodness, 
making even sore trials the means of still greater 
nearness to God, and earthly disappointments but 
so many steps in the ladder, up which the soul is 
mounting to its Maker. 

The positive happiness of such a life is greater 
than the Christian in the ordinary frame of custom 
can conceive. The very effort of thus seeking 
after God is itself positive blessedness. And 
we would ask any Christian, and especially any 



512 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, 

one just setting out in the Christian life, whose 
habits for life therefore are now forming, Had you 
not better be employed in such an effort, even 
though you seem to fail, even though your soul be 
much discouraged by the way, and you seem to 
meet with enemies, of which others are entirely 
unconscious ? Would not that life be infinitely 
happier, which is so spent ? If you do not meet 
with those enemies, it is not because they do not 
exist, and if you be at peace without this holy 
effort after God, it is not because these enemies 
are overcome, or that sin is dead within you, or 
that your vision is bright toward heaven. It is 
rather because sin is alive, and you know it not, 
or care very little for it ; it is because sensibility 
is dead, and not sin ; it is not because you are 
really secure that enemies do not trouble you, but 
because they are secure of you, and quietly waiting 
till they shall have full possession of you. Now 
again in regard to this pilgrimage, it is clear that 
there is great blessedness in this search after God, 
and certainly no blessedness without it, although 
in it the earnest pilgrim may see his sins and his 
enemies with a clearness, of which they that are at 
ease can have no conception, and though he may 
have to pass through conflicts, which they that sleep 
know nothing of. Better by far to have these con- 
flicts now, and rest and triumph at the end, than 
rest and peace now, and a conflict with sin and its 
consequences forever and ever. It were better to 
be all one's lifetime in the Valley of the Shadow 
of Death, to emerge from it into light and life 
eternal, than to be walking in a false light here, to 
be followed by the blackness of darkness forever. 



AND THE CHILDREN. 513 

It cannot be denied that the way of this pilgri- 
mage is a straight and narrow way. The difficul- 
ties and hardships, and terrors, have not been mag- 
nified in the Allegory of Bunyan. It is a strictly 
scriptural representation. Nor can it be denied 
that the world spreadeth in our way many alluring 
baits, and that the sense hath for the time ex- 
quisite and intoxicating delights. So that in be- 
coming a pilgrim, one seems to turn his back upon 
a present and positive enjoyment, and to choose 
self-denial, painfullness and sorrow. But at the 
very outset we are met by the tremendous question, 
What shall it -profit a man, if he gain the whole 
world and lose his own soul ? 

We cannot unmake our being or annihilate its 
conditions. We must die and die only to be im- 
mortal. If while we live we live to the world, 
when we come to die and leave the world, we shall 
die to all blessedness. But if while we live, we 
die to the world, then when we come to die and 
leave the world, we shall live to blessedness perfect 
and eternal. So let the w 7 orld be as pleasant as it 
may, and the pilgrimage as toilsome and forbidding 
as it may, in choosing between them we must re- 
member, we are choosing between Heaven and 
Hell. If we would laugh now, we must do it at 
the cost of weeping forever ; if we would laugh 
and rejoice forever, we must consent to be weeping 
pilgrims now. Now what will it profit you to gain 
the whole world at the cost of your soul ? 

But when the choice is once made under the 
strong principle of duty, and the conviction of 
substantial and eternal gain ; and the man with 



514 CHRISTIANA, MERCY, AND THE CHILDREN. 

violent resistance shuts out the alluring voices of 
the world, by putting his fingers in his ears, and 
its alluring prospects by turning his back upon 
them, and runs for the entrance into the narrow 
way, crying out Life ! Life ! Eternal Life ! — then 
there springs up the excitement, enthusiasm and 
joy of a new and glorious interest. What has he 
to do now 1 To become holy, like God ; to lead the 
life of Love, like God in Christ ; to win heaven 
forever and ever 1 Having turned from the world, 
its fascinations depart from his soul like a light 
vapour and vanish into nothingness. And fixing 
now all the energies and insight of his being upon 
the work and prospects before him, the life of the 
pilgrim and the crowning rewards stand out con- 
tinually in increasing beauty and glory. And thus 
is he more and more conformed to that which he 
seeketh after ; and gaineth even in the winning of 
heavenly blessedness, a taste of it, which maketh 
the keenest delight of the world appear utterly in- 
sipid. The pilgrim has a precious reward as he 
goes along ; it meets him at the cross, at the hill of 
difficulty, in the valley of humiliation, in the valley 
of the shadow of death, it meets him most 
abundantly when to the world he appears most 
wretched ; it is an inward light and love which 
enables him to see, and draws him towards the 
gate of heaven — it is the promise and the earnest 
of the world to come. And when at last his flesh 
and heart faileth, then God becomes the strength 
of his heart and his portion forever. 







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